HARRY  HARSON; 


OK, 


THE  BENEVOLENT  BACHELOR, 


BY 


JOHN    T.   IKYING, 

(NEPHEW  OF  -WASHINGTON   IRVING.) 


NEW  YOEK: 
ROBERT    M.  DE   WITT,    PUBLISHER, 

18  FRANKFORT   STREET. 


1-OAN  STACK 


PKEFACE. 


THE  date  of  the  following  tale  is  fixed  many  years  back,  and 
since  then  great  and  important  changes  have  been  made  in  the 
law  of  this  State.  Imprisonment  for  debt  has  been  abolished, 
and  many  forms  and  proceedings  which  are  alluded  to  in  these 
pages  have  been  swept  away  by  statutory  enactment. 

The  whole  body  of  law  and  practice  has  been  simplified  and 
remodelled  ;  but  whether  it  has  been  improved  is  a  matter  of  no 
little  discussion,  both  by  the  bar  and  bench ;  which  discussion  pro 
bably  will  not  terminate  until  all  those  who  are  familiar  with  the 
old  forms  and  usages  shall  have  ceased  to  frequent  their  former 
haunts,  or  have  gone  to  then*  graves. 

The  characters  who  figure  in  this  book  are  not  all  fictitious. 
Some  are  still  living ;  but  the  greater  portion  of  them  have 
played  their  part  in  life,  and  the  curtain  has  fallen,  and  shut  out 
all  that  the  world  ever  has  known  or  ever  will  know  of  their  foibles 
or  their  virtues.  Many  of  the  scenes,  too,  are  real,  and  for  a  time 
made  a  deep  and  painful  impression  upon  the  public  mind ;  but 
the  waves  of  time  have  rolled  on,  and  effaced  them  from  the 
memories  of  all  except  a  few  whom  they  still  haunt  with  a  linger 
ing  feeling  of  pain.  j.  T.  i. 


G35 


HAEEY  HABSOI. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THERE  is  a  portion  of  the  g/eat  city  of  New- York  known 
to  many  who  move  in  the  upper  walks  of  life,  only  by 
name  ;  a  region  rife  with  crime  and  suffering  and  violence. 
Surrounded  by  broad  thoroughfares,  wiCh  wide  streets  cross 
ing  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  it,  and  with  all  the  life 
and  bustle  of  a  mighty  metropolis  humming  within  its  very 
skirts,  it  stands  a  doomed  spot ;  the  haunt  of  the  felon  and 
the  thief.  Few  visit  it  from  choice.  Those  who  casually 
stray  within  its  precincts,  hasten  on  with  quickened  step  ai*d 
anxious  eye,  glad  to  get  beyond  it,  and  out  of  the  reach  of 
those  who  prowl  through  its  narrow  streets.  Houses,  ruined 
and  toppling  down ;  doors  unhung,  or  swinging  open  foi 
any  one  to  enter  who  may  choose ;  roofs  sagging  down,  01 
crushed  in  by  falling  chimneys;  shutterless  and  unglazed 
windows ;  deep  dark  areas,  half  filled  with  rubbish ;  base 
ments  with  dripping  and  mildewed  walls ;  buildings  crowd 
ed  together,  falling  and  tumbling  one  on  the  other,  and  yet 
supported,  one  can  scarcely  tell  how,  meet  the  eye  in  every 
direction.  And  yet  every  thing  is  swarming  with  life. 
Human  beings,  savage,  reckless,  dissolute,  mad  with  drink 


8  HARRY    H ARSON. 

bloated,  with  blood-shot  eyes  and  shaggy  hair,  next  of  kin 
to  beasts,  herd  here  in  droves;  festering  and  dying  by 
scores,  and  yet  never  thinning  their  countless  multitudes. 
Every  house  is  a  hive ;  every  house  is  a  lazar-house  ;  every 
house,  a  brothel ;  and  every  house  a  den  where  theft  and 
violence  and  murder  find  fit  harborage. 

Yet  upon  this  spot,  on  the  morning  in  which  it  is  presented 
to  the  reader,  rose  as  glorious  a  sun  as  ever  shone ;  and 
along  those  narrow,  pent-up  streets,  through  those  crumbling 
dwellings,  floated  as  cool  and  fresh  an  atmosphere  —  contami 
nated  indeed  by  the  stews  around  it  —  as  ever  was  breathed. 
In  a  dark  cellar,  reeking  with  noisome  exhalations  and 
stagnant  vapors;  through  a  small  shattered  window,  be 
grimed  with  dirt  and  filth,  broke  the  glad  light  of  that 
morning  sun ;  giving  something  like  cheerfulness  to  the 
murkiest  and  most  dreary  den  that  ever  human  being 
tenanted.  It  might  have  been  a  deserted  wine-vault ;  for 
there  were  empty  casks  piled  away  in  dim  corners  of  it ;  or 
it  might  have  been  a  long-unused  place  for  the  storage  of 
merchandise ;  for  broken  boxes,  on  which  were  scrawled  the 
names  of  firms  long  since  bankrupt,  covered  with  dirt  and 
mildew,  were  heaped  up  in  other  parts  of  it ;  or  it  might 
have  been  the  haunt  of  some  grubbing,  accumulating  pawn 
broker  ;  for  old  clothes,  chairs,  pans  and  kettles,  tables,  and 
every  thing  which  either  man  could  dream  of  or  thief 
steal,  were  gathered  there,  tossed  recklessly  about,  and  all 
rotting  and  falling  to  pieces  from  dampness. 

In  this  fated  place,  in  front  of  a  dull,  smouldering  fire, 
which  she  from  time  to  time  furnished  with  fuel,  sat  a 
woman  of  sixty.  Her  features  were  wan  and  haggard ;  her 
blue  eye  so  pale  and  lustreless  that  it  might  have  stared 
from  the  livid  lid  of  a  corpse ;  and  her  gray  hair,  long  and 
angled,  escaping  from  beneath  a  crumpled  hat  of  faded 


HARRY    HARSON.  9 

black  velvet,  hung  over  her  shoulders.  A  tattered  cloak 
was  drawn  tightly  about  her,  partly  to  keep  out  the  cold, 
and  partly  to  hide  the  rags  beneath. 

Near  her,  shivering  with  cold  and  terror,  were  two  child 
ren,  a  boy  and  girl,  watching  her  looks,  and  shrinking  back 
whenever  she  moved,  as  if  in  momentary  dread  of  violence. 
Strange  tenants  they  were  of  such  a  place ;  for  they  were 
singularly  beautiful ;  exotics  which  could  never  have  been 
the  growth  of  such  a  soil.  The  boy  might  have  been  seven 
years  old,  the  girl  younger ;  but  suffering  had  crushed  them 
•down ;  and  beautiful  though  they  were,  they  bore  a  blight 
which  God  never  sheds  on  childhood.  The  sight  of  these 
children  seemed  to  be  a  source  of  high  gratification  to  the 
old  lady  just  mentioned ;  for  as  often  as  she  turned  to  look 
at  them,  she  gave  vent  to  a  low  chuckling  laugh,  and  shook 
her  head  at  the  fire,  grinning  and  rubbing  her  hands  togeth 
er  ;  or  hugging  her  knees  with  an  appearance  of  great 
satisfaction. 

How  long  she  might  have  indulged  in  her  pleasant  mood, 
is  a  matter  of  some  uncertainty  ;  for  suddenly  a  long  stream 
of  sunlight  floated  into  the  room,  like  a  messenger  of  joy, 
and  falling  upon  her  shrunken  face,  seemed  to  recall  her 
from  her  day-dream.  '  There  comes  the  sun  ! '  muttered 
she,  starting  to  her  feet ;  *  there  he  comes !  there  he  comes ! 
Work,  work,  work  !  Up  with  ye !  Bundle  up  !  Up  with 
ye!' 

In  obedience  to  this  summons,  from  every  part  of  the 
room ;  from  behind  casks,  from  beneath  boxes,  and  piles  ol 
rags  and  rubbish  and  filth,  where  they  had  lain  unobserved 
before,  there  swarmed  a  crowd  of  human  beings.  Children, 
kenneled  there  like  beasts,  gathered  about  Mrs.  Blossom ; 
wan,  miserable  little  wretches,  with  blear  eyes,  thin,  pale 
faces,  crippled,  deformed,  blighted  ;  and,  even  in  the  days  of 


10  HARRY    U ARSON. 

infancy,  with  the  decrepitude  and  infirmity  of  years  upon 
them.  There  was  a  glad  hum  among  them ;  for  they  were 
to  exchange  the  pent-up,  stagnant  air  of  their  home  for  the 
light  of  day,  the  blue  sky,  and  the  gay  sunshine. 

'  Are  ye  all  here  ? '  said  Mrs.  Blossom,  running  her  eye 
over  them  to  see  that  none  had  eloped  during  the  night. 
1  All  right  —  eleven.  Come  here,  Squink  ! '  said  she  to  a 
sickly-looking  boy  :  '  where  was  you  yesterday  ? ' 

4  In  Broadway,'  replied  the  boy. 

'  So  you  was ;  and  the  day  afore,  and  the  day  afore  that. 
You  're  gettin'  common  in  Broadway ;  you  must  take  Hudson- 
street.  Go  it  strong  in  the  Square  ;  there 's  ladies  there,  and 
they  'm  uncommon  tender  about  the  bosom.  Stop  ! '  said 
she,  as  the  boy  was  going  off ;  '  who  had  the  orphan  sister 
yesterday  ? ' 

*  I  brothered  her  yesterday  ;  and  blow  me  if  it 's  my  turn 
to  do  it  ag'in  to-day,'  replied  a  small  boy  with  a  stout  voice, 
and  sufficiently  ragged  to  have  brothered  all  the  orphan 
sisters  in  the  world,  without  being  much  reduced  in  circum 
stances. 

'  Stop,  Squink  ! '  said  the  woman  ;  '  take  her  along  —  here 
she  is.'  As  she  spoke,  she  placed  in  his  arms  a  child  a  few 
months  old.  '  My  eyes  !  what  a  babby  that  is  !  She  grows 
fat,  in  spite  of  me  ;  but  her  weak  eyes  are  a  perfect  fortune 
to  me  ;  at  least  five  shillings  a  day,'  continued  she,  lapsing 
into  an  abstruse  mathematical  calculation,  and  counting  her 
fingers.  *  Well,  well ;  off  with  you,  Squink  !  off  with  you  !' 

The  boy,  casting  a  rueful  glance  at  the  child,  took  her  up 
in  his  arms,  and  staggered  out  of  the  cellar. 

'  Betty !  here,  Betty !  you  take  the  Bowery.  Tell  the  old 
story  :  '  a  mother ;  a  hard-working  woman,  with  ten  child 
ren,'  and  all  that.  Be  off!  And  you,'  said  she,  turning  to 
a  pale,  unhealthy  girl,  who  stood  next  her  ;  '  you  go  about 


HARRY    U ARSON.  11 

Washington-square,  and  Bond-street,  and  them  'ere  parts ; 
look  melancholy  at  the  ladies  in  the  winders  ;  drop  down  on 
the  steps,  completely  did  up.  That  always  brings  two  shil 
lings.  And  you,'  said  she,  addressing  the  small  boy  with 
stout  voice,  '  you  must  be  among  the  merchants'  clerks. 
Talk  big ;  look  sassy ;  ax  'em  for  a  dollar ;  swear  at  'em : 
they  likes  that.  You  take  ? ' 

'  Do  n't  I  ?  I  'm  up  to  trap  ! '  said  the  boy,  and  out  he 
darted. 

Having  at  last  sent  her  whole  crew  adrift,  with  the  ex 
ception  of  the  boy  and  girl  first  mentioned,  the  woman  sat 
down.  She  had  scarcely  done  so,  when  the  cellar  was  dark 
ened  by  the  entrance  of  a  man,  who  walked  in  as  if  perfectly 
at  home ;  and  drawing  the  end  of  a  wooden  box  to  the  fire, 
and  seating  himself  on  it,  took  up  a  bar  of  iron  which  lay 
there  as  a  substitute  for  both  shovel  and  tongs,  and  began 
to  stir  the  fire. 

4  Bloody  poor  fires  you  keep,  Mrs.  Blossom  ;  bloody  poor ! ' 
said  the  man,  still  poking  in  the  ashes. 

*  Times  is  hard,  very  hard,  Mr.  Snork,'  replied  Mrs.  Blos 
som,  shaking  her  head  pathetically ;  *  and  poor  souls  like 
me  must  suffer.  Ah  !  if  it  was  n't  for  the  lambs  under  my 
charge,  I  really  do  think  I  'd  have  no  fire  at  all.' 

Mr.  Snork  laid  down  the  iron  bar,  and  placing  a  hand  on 
each  knee,  stared  at  her  in  undisguised  amazement.  At 
last  he  said : 

'  Live  in  this  'ere  place  without  a  fire  ? '  ^ 

Mrs.  Blossom  shook  her  head,  as  much  as  to  say,  that 
melancholy  as  the  fact  might  be,  nevertheless  such  had  been 
the  tenor  of  her  observation. 

'Then  I'm  blessed  if  you  wouldn't  be  mouldy  afore  a 
week 's  out !  Pah  !  I  can  feel  it  sticking  to  me  now  ! '  And 
to  show  that  his  remark  was  made  in  earnest,  and  that  he 


12  HARRY    HARSON. 

was  really  sincere  in  his  apprehensions,  he  shook  himself 
violently,  by  way  of  dislodging  all  particles  which  might  have 
adhered  to  his  person.     Mrs.  Blossom  made  no  reply  for 
some  time ;  but  at  length  she  inquired : 
'  How 's  your  set,  Mr.  Snork  ? ' 

*  Pretty  well,  pretty  well.     We  Ve  got  the  measles  among 
7em ;  but  as  it 's  among  the  healthy  ones,  it 's  all  the  better. 
It  makes  'em  look  interesting.     They  take  oncommon  with 
women  as  has  got  babbies  of  their  own ;  or  as  has  lately 
lost  a  little  'un.     Our  sickliest  child  like  to  went  off  last 
week ;  the  profitablest  child  we  've  got.      Mrs.  Snork  took 
onbounded  pains  in  the  training  of  that  child.     Mrs.  Snork 
is  a  very  valuable  woman,  for  one  of  the  profession.     She 
turns  out  the  successfullest  beggars  in  the  city.     To  turn  out 
a  well-broken  one  is  not  so  easy  a  job.     They're  wonderful 
scarce ;  not  one  in  ten  succeeds :  and  we  have  to  keep  gettin' 
and  gettin',  to  make  up  for  the  wear  and  tear  of  the  police- 
office  and  House  of  Refuge.     It  costs  us  at  least  one  a  month  ; 
and  when  they  comes  out  of  the  House  of  Refuge,  they  'm 
too  big  for  the  profession,  and  prefers  stealin'.     But  what's 
them?'  said  Mr.  Snort,  taking  off  his  hat  and  rubbing  his 
forehead  very  hard  with  the  cuff  of  his  coat.      '  What's 
them  ?     I  never  seed  them  afore.'     He  looked  very  earnestly 
at  the  two  children,  who  shrank  from  him,  drawing  together, 
and  watching  him  with  terrified   eyes.      *  My  eyes  !  Mrs. 
Blossom,  they  1m  great  ones  !     Where  did  they  come  from  ? ' 

'  Never  mind,'  said  the  woman  ;  '  that's  my  affair.' 

*  Will  you  sell  one  ? '  inquired  the  man,  still  staring  eagerly 
at  them.     '  I  'd  give  a  round  price  for  the  gal  —  I  would 
indeed;'    and   by  way  of  impressing   his   sincerity   more 
strongly  upon  Mrs.  Blossom,  he  dashed  his  hat  to  the  floor, 
and  blasted  his  eyes  if  he  were  not  in  earnest. 

*  It's  no  use,  Mr.  Snork,'  said  the  woman ;  '  we  knows  her 


HARRY    HARSON.  13 

waily.  A  child  like  that  there  one  is  worth  a  dollar  a  day. 
Look  at  her  p'ints.  If  she  had  been  a  cripple,  she  'd  been 
worth  twice  the  money  at  the  very  lowest.' 

'A  wery  delightful  cripple  she  'd  make,'  said  Mr.  Snork 
admiringly ;  '  but  you  won't  sell  her  ? '  said  he  inquiringly. 

Mrs.  Blossom  shook  her  head. 

1  Nor  the  boy  nuther  ? '  asked  he.  *  He  does  n  't  seem 
equal  to  the  gal ! 

Again  Mrs.  Blossom  shook  her  head.  *  Money  won't  buy 
them,  Mr.  Snork,'  said  she  resolutely ;  '  beside,'  added  she, 
sinking  her  voice  and  looking  cautiously  about  her,  '  there's 
more  in  them  children  than  you  or  I  see  —  more  than  you 
or  I  know.  I  could  n't  let  them  go  if  I  wanted  to ;  and 
if  you  had  'em,  you  'd  be  sorry  for  it.' 

'  Hallo !  what 's  in  the  wind  now  ? '  exclaimed  Mr.  Snork, 
sitting  bolt  upright,  and  staring  earnestly  at  her. 

Mrs.  Blossom  shook  her  head  ominously,  but  said  nothing 
farther,  and  Mr.  Snork,  after  several  ineffectual  attempts  to 
satisfy  his  curiosity,  rose  from  his  seat  and  went  to  the  door. 

Before  he  ascended  the  steps,  Mrs.  Blossom  got  up,  and  tak 
ing  him  by  the  arm,  led  him  to  a  distant  corner  of  the  cellai 
and  stood  for  some  time  whispering  in  his  ear,  and  point 
ing  to  the  children.  Mr.  Snork  seemed  to  differ  from  her 
in  opinion  ;  for  at  every  pause  he  shook  his  head,  and  when 
he  had  heard  her  out,  confirmed  all  his  previous  marks  of 
disapprobation  by  striking  his  fist  against  an  empty  box, 
and  declaring  that  if  he  did,  he  '  hoped  he  might  be 
d d!' 

After  this  free  and  earnest  expression  of  his  sentiments, 
he  walked  out,  without  farther  remark. 

Scarcely  had  Mr.  Snork  made  his  egress  before  the  door 
way  was  again  darkened  by  the  entrance  of  a  visitor  of  alto 
gether  a  different  description.  As  far  as  could  be  seen  of 


14  11 A  RRY    HA  E  SON. 

his  face,  which  was  muffled  as  if  for  the  purpose  of  conceal 
ment,  he  appeared  to  be  in  the  prime  of  life.  The  little  of 
the  hair  which  escaped  from  beneath  his  hat  was  jet  black 
slightly  mixed  with  gray  —  but  the  shaggy  eye-brows 
overhanging  two  eyes  as  black  and  glowing  as  those  of  a 
serpent,  and  the  thin,  sallow  face,  crossed  and  seamed  with 
wrinkles,  gave  him  the  appearance  of  much  greater  age,  and 
showed  that  care  or  trouble  or  evil  passions  had  made  wild 
work  with  features  which  had  once  been  good. 

Mrs.  Blossom,  probably  supposing  the  new  comer  to  be 
Mr.  Snork  returning  to  deliver  some  forgotten  message,  did 
not  look  up  until  her  visitor,  dropping  his  cloak,  uttered  her 
name. 

Starting  from  her  seat,  with  an  air  of  deep  deference  not 
immingled  with  fear,  she  exclaimed  :  '  Is  it  you,  Sir  ?  Mr.  — 
Mr.  —  Mr.  — ' 

*  Mr.  what  ? '  interrogated  the  man  sharply.  '  Mr.  who  ? 
Have  you  learned  my  name  yet  ? ' 

The  woman  shook  her  head. 

'It's  well  for  you,'  said  he  savagely.  'I  have  no  name  ; 
and  least  of  all  a  name  here,  and  for  you.' 

'Ah,  I  forgot,  I  forgot  —  I  'in  very  old,  very  old,'  whined 
Mrs.  Blossom. 

'Those  who  deal  with  me  must  never  forget,'  returned  the 
man  in  the  same  stern  tone,  'or  they'll  rue  it.  And  the 
children?'  inquired  he  abruptly. 

Mrs.  Blossom  made  no  other  reply  than  to  point  to  the 
boy  and  girl,  who  had  shrunk  off  to  a  far  corner  of  the  room 
as  if  for  concealment. 

Her  visitor,  who  had  not  before  observed  them,  lifted  his 
cloak  so  as  to  conceal  all  of  his  features  except  his  eyes, 
and  walked  across  to  where  they  were.  Whatever  might 
have  been  his  thoughts  or  feelings,  not  a  word  escaped  him 


HARRY    UARSON.  15 

but  as  lie  looked  at  them,  the  children  instinctively  crouched 
back  into  the  dark  recesses  of  the  place,  to  escape  the  glow 
ing  eye  that  rested  on  them. 

'  You  have  done  your  work  well,'  said  he,  returning  to 
Mrs.  Blossom, '  very  well.  Keep  on  as  you  have  begun,  and 
you  will  earn  your  reward  ;  but  recollect  one  thing  —  if  you 
fail ;  if  you  break  faith  with  me ' 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  but  shook  his  thin  finger 
at  her  with  a  gesture  full  of  menace. 

'And  now,'  added  he,  '  another  question  —  you  know  the 
man  whom  I  send  here  ? ' 

Mrs.  Blossom  was  too  completely  awed  by  the  presence  of 
her  visitor,  who  evidently  had  some  strong  hold  upon  her 
fears,  to  make  any  other  reply  than  a  simple  assent. 

'And  his  name  ? '  inquired  the  man  sharply. 

If  Mrs.  Blossom  had  attained  that  knowledge  she  had  too 
much  shrewdness  to  admit  it,  for  she  denied  it  boldly. 

'  It 's  well,'  said  the  other,  *  do  n't  learn  it,  and  do  n't  seek 
to  learn  it.  You  owe  him  thanks  for  sending  me  to  you  — 
and  now  mark  my  words  well.  When  that  man  comes  to 
you,  do  his  bidding,  blindly,  without  question,  and,'  added 
he  in  a  cold,  slow  tone,  speaking  through  his  closed  teeth, 
'  without  conscience.' 

•  I  '11  do  as  he  says,'  replied  Mrs.  Blossom,  somewhat  sul 
lenly,  '  but  he  's  a  hard  man  —  he 's  a  very  hard  man.' 

'  Do  his  bidding,'  replied  the  other  sternly,  l  without  cavil. 
And  above  all,'  added  he,  pointing  to  the  children,  '  look  to 
them.' 

The  whole  conversation  had  been  carried  on  in  a  low  tone, 
but  he  added  a  few  words  more  almost  in  a  whisper,  and  left 
the  place. 

It  was  evident  that  Mrs.  Blossom  was  not  a  little  relieved 
by  the  departure  of  her  guest,  and  it  was  also  evident  from 


16  HARRY    EARS  ON. 

the  anxious  glances  which  she  continued  from  time  to  time 
to  cast  toward  the  entrance,  that  she  bad  some  apprehensions 
that  he  might  return  —  but  he  did  not ;  and  after  watching 
for  some  time  she  again  seated  herself  at  the  fire,  and  resting 
her  chin  on  her  hand,  seemed  buried  in  deep  thought,  until 
the  faint  chimes  of  a  distant  clock,  striking  the  hour,  reached 
her  ear.  Springing  up,  she  turned  to  the  children  and  said  : 
'  It 's  time  you  were  at  work.  You  Ve  lived  here  long 
enough  without  earning  your  wittals.  You  stay  here,'  said 
she  to  the  boy,  '  and  you]  she  added,  addressing  the  girl, 
'  come  along.' 

As  she  spoke,  she  took  up  a  small  ragged  bonnet,  threw 
it  to  her,  and  without  waiting  till  she  had  put  it  on,  led  her 
into  the  street. 

Through  several  narrow  alleys,  dark  and  dingy  even  in  the 
light  of  day,  the  old  woman  led  the  child,  until  they 
emerged  into  a  broad  thoroughfare.  Then  giving  directions 
to  her  how  to  act,  and  what  to  say,  and  how  to  mislead 
those  who  questioned  her  ;  and  cautioning  her  above  all  not 
to  tell  that  the  old  woman  who  was  dogging  her  footsteps  was 
other  than  a  stranger ;  she  bade  her  commence  her  task. 
Walking  off  so  far  that  none  would  suspect  her  of  having 
any  communication  with  the  child,  she  watched  her  success 
with  greedy  eyes. 

What  a  glorious  launch  in  life  was  that !  A  child,  as  yet 
pure-hearted,  young,  helpless,  cowed  and  broken-spirited, 
flung  into  the  streets  to  commence  a  career,  the  whole  course 
of  which  is  suffering,  and  its  end  infamy  and  despair ! 
From  morning  till  night  that  feeble  girl  dragged  her  weary 
limbs  through  the  street ;  begging,  now  of  one  person,  now 
of  another ;  and  ever  was  the  cold,  calculating  eye  of  that 
old  woman  upon  her.  Some  gave  her  a  few  pence ;  some 


HARRY    If  ARSON.  17 

spoke  harshly  to  her ;  and  some  passed  on,  without  hearing 
the  faint  voice  which  sighed  out  its  petition  in  their  ears. 
One  stout  gentleman,  with  a  mulberry  nose,  and  a  mahogany 
cane  under  his  arm,  asked  her  in  a  stern  voice  if  she  knew 
that  there  was  a  law  against  vagrants,  and  that  there  was  a 
place  called  the  '  House  of  Refuge.'  If  she  did  n't,  he  rather 
suspected  that  she  would  attain  that  knowledge  shortly. 
Saying  which,  he  smiled  to  himself,  as  if  pleased  with  his 
own  remark,  and  looked  complacently  about  him,  as  if  in 
hopes  that  some  one  else  had  heard  it  too.  But  as  no  one 
else  other  had  been  so  fortunate,  he  was  forced  to  content 
himself  with  his  own  approbation,  and  walked  off. 

On  the  child  went.  Once  or  twice  she  sat  down  on  a 
stone  step  to  rest,  but  the  old  woman  came  up  and  forced 
her  on.  Young  as  she  was,  a  vague  idea  of  flight  passed 
through  her  mind ;  but  she  had  no  where  to  go ;  and, 
miserable  as  it  was,  she  had  no  other  home  than  the 
wretched  hole  from  which  she  had  emerged  that  morning. 
Again  and  again  the  idea  of  escape  passed  through  her 
mind ;  but  then  she  thought  of  her  little  brother,  left 
behind  in  that  dreary  den,  and  that  she  might  never  see 
him  again  :  and  the  tears  came  in  her  eyes,  and  her  heart 
leaped  into  her  throat,  and  she  made  up  her  mind  that  she 
would  not  attempt  it.  But  then  again  came  the  thought 
of  that  dreaded  woman.  The  very  sight  of  her  made  her 
tremble.  She  looked  back  to  see  if  she  were  still  there  ;  the 
velvet  hat  was  not  in  sight ;  for  the  first  time  that  day,  Mrs. 
Blossom's  eye  was  off  her.  For  one  single  moment  she 
hesitated,  and  then,  scarcely  conscious  of  the  impulse  that 
urged  her  on,  she  sprang  forward  and  fled  at  full  speed 
along  the  street.  The  next  instant  she  heard  the  voice  of 
the  old  woman  calling  her ;  then  she  lost  it ;  and  on  she 


IS  HARRY    H ARSON. 

went.  The  darkness  of  the  evening  favored  her  ;  and  after 
turning  several  corners,  she  saw  the  door  of  a  house  open  ; 
and  darting  across  a  small  court-yard  which  intervened 
between  her  and  the  house,  she  sprang  in,  and  fell  exhausted 
an  the  floor. 


HARRY   HARSON.  19 


CHAPTER  II. 

IN  the  upper  part  of  the  city,  at  the  date  of  this  narrative, 
there  stood,  and  possibly  still  stands,  a  little  back  from  the 
street,  a  wooden  house,  somewhat  the  worse  for  age,  but 
still  in  good  repair.  It  once  had  been  yellow,  but  had  faded 
off  into  a  tawny  brown ;  and  here  and  there  the  gray  color 
of  the  wood  showed  through.  It  was  two  stories  high,  with 
tall  arched  windows,  and  a  double-pitch  to  its  roof :  yet  it 
was  a  snug-looking  place,  with  a  wide,  comfortable  entrance, 
and  wooden  seats  on  each  side  of  the  door,  as  if  encouraging 
the  weary  to  rest  there.  A  wooden  railing  served  to  sepa 
rate  a  door-yard  from  the  street,  and  to  enclose  a  huge 
willow-tree,  some  of  whose  limbs  hung  over  the  house, 
trailing  upon  its  roof,  while  others,  drooping  almost  to  the 
ground,  shaded  the  porch. 

This  house  and  its  guardian  tree  had  once  been  far  out  of 
town  ;  and  the  time  had  been  when  all  about  it  were  green 
fields,  here  and  there  dotted  with  gardens.  Trees  were 
plenty  about  there  then ;  and  there  were  no  neighbors  within 
half  a  mile.  The  house  had  been  a  great  affair  in  those 
days ;  a  sort  of  second-rate  villa,  whose  owner  sat  during 
the  fine  summer  afternoons  on  the  wide  seat  at  the  porch, 
with  his  pipe  in  his  mouth  and  two  or  three  cronies  at  his 
elbow,  or  dozed  under  the  shade  of  the  trees,  lulled  by  the  wind 
as  it  whispered  through  their  branches.  But  one  by  one  they 
had  died  off ;  until  of  all  the  trees  which  had  overshadowed 
that  door-yard  this  single  old  willow  was  left ;  and  this  too 
was  going  fast ;  for  here  and  there  a  long  dry  branch, 
stretching  out  like  a  palsied  limb,  showed  that  decay  was  at 


20  HARRY    H ARSON. 

work  within.  Such  the  spot  had  been  ;  but  the  city  had 
gradually  stolen  around  it,  until  the  old  house,  awakening  as 
it  were  from  a  dream  of  years,  found  itself  quite  an  insigni 
ficant  member  of  a  long  street,  with  a  tall  brick  building 
opposite  staring  it  full  in  the  face,  and  one  on  each  side 
jammed  close  up  against  it,  and  looking  down  with  sove 
reign  contempt  upon  their  rustic  neighbor.  And  the  tree  too, 
which  had  flaunted  its  long  limbs  hither  and  thither,  stream 
ing  them  out  in  the  wind  with  a  most  aristocratic  indiffer 
ence  to  the  space  it  occupied,  found  itself  cramped  up 
between  two  high  walls,  and  obliged,  as  the  phrase  goes,  '  to 
haul  in  its  horns.' 

The  entrance  to  the  house  was  nearly  on  a  level  with  the 
street ;  and  the  door  opened  immediately  into  a  room, 
without  the  aid  or  intervention  of  passage  or  entry.  A 
flagged  pathway  led  from  the  gate  to  the  door;  but  all 
the  rest  of  the  court-yard  was  sodded  with  turf ;  and  from 
the  midst  of  this,  shot  up  the  old  tree  just  mentioned. 
These,  and  many  other  peculiarities  of  the  place,  were 
observable  in  the  day-time;  though  they  might  have 
escaped  the  observation  of  even  an  accurate  observer  at 
the  time  when  we  introduce  it  to  the  reader,  which  was  just 
as  the  last  lingering  rays  of  an  afternoon's  sun  were  deep 
ening  into  twilight,  on  the  very  day  in  which  Mrs.  Blossom 
had  left  her  house  with  the  praiseworthy  intention  of 
initiating  the  child  under  her  charge,  into  all  the  little 
enjoyments  incident  to  a  life  of  beggary. 

In  this  house,  in  a  back  room  on  the  ground-floor,  sat  a 
man  of  about  sixty,  smoking  a  pipe  in  front  of  a  bright  fire 
of  wood,  which  burnt  and  crackled  merrily,  its  blaze  dancing 
high  up  the  chimney,  and  flickering  hither  and  thither, 
lighting  up  the  room,  and  shining  full  on  the  quiet,  good- 
humored  face  of  the  old  man,  giving  it  siich  a  comfortable. 


HARRY    HARSON.  21 

cosy,  cheerful  look,  that  one  would  have  sworn  to  his  honesty 
And  warmth  of  heart,  from  that  single  sample  of  his  person. 

He  was  a  sturdy  old  fellow,  very  broad  in  the  skirt  and 
shoulder,  with  a  full,  round  face,  and  as  glad  an  eye  as 
ever  danced  in  a  man's  head.  It  was  a  snug,  comfortable 
room,  too,  with  plain  but  substantial  furniture,  and  one  or 
two  wide  chairs,  either  meant  for  the  old  man's  peculiar  use, 
or  the  accommodation  of  an  equally  broad-skirted  friend  or 
two.  At  his  elbow  stood  a  small  wooden  table,  on  which 
was  a  mug  of  hot  toddy,  from  which  he  occasionally  re 
freshed  himself,  and  an  old  newspaper,  intended  to  fur 
nish  the  same  entertainment  for  his  mind  that  the  mug  did 
for  his  body.  Ever  and  anon,  as  he  took  a  sip  from  his 
mug,  or  drew  a  whiff  from  his  pipe,  he  cast  a  meditative 
glance  at  the  fire,  or  looked  up  at  a  small. clock  which  ticked 
loudly  over  the  mantel-piece,  wagging  a  short  tail  of  a  pen 
dulum  with  unbounded  activity,  as  if  in  a  great  hurry  to  get 
through  the  evening. 

Opposite  him,  in  a  chair  as  capacious  as  his  own,  sat  a 
small  irascible  looking  pug-dog  with  a  wrinkled  nose.  The 
whole  of  his  back  and  the  upper  part  of  his  head  were  of  a 
light  brown,  but  toward  the  end  of  his  nose  his  face  gradually 
deepened  into  a  jet-black ;  giving  him  the  appearance  of  a 
dog  who  had  been  engaged  in  investigating  the  interior  of  an 
ink-bottle.  Yet,  with  all  his  disadvantages  of  complexion,  he 
was  a  tidy,  tight-skinned  animal ;  and  as  he  sat  opposite  his 
master,  displaying  to  all  advantage  a  streak  of  white  which 
ran  down  his  breast  between  his  fore-legs,  he  bore  a  strong 
resemblance  to  a  respectable  negro  clergyman,  clad  in  snuff- 
colored  small  clothes,  with  an  ample  shirt-ruffle. 

'  You  're  a  good  dog,  Spite,  indeed  you  are ! '  said  the  old 
man,  pausing  in  his  smoking,  and  looking  kindly  at  his 
companion.  '  You  're  a  little  irritable  and  cross-grained ; 


22  HARRY    HARSON. 

but  you  're  growing  old :  we  're  both  growing  old,  Spite ; 
we  're  both  growing  old,  and  must  humor  each  other.  We 
know  each  other's  whims,  my  poor  dog,  and  must  make 
allowance  for  them.'  As  he  spoke,  the  old  man,  at  some 
inconvenience  to  himself,  leaned  forward  and  patted  the  dog 
on  the  head. 

Spite  acknowledged  the  courtesy  by  a  short  bark,  express 
ive  of  high  satisfaction.  He  would  have  wagged  his  tail, 
but  that  appendage  being  always  in  tight  curl  upon  his 
back,  it  was  an  understood  thing  between  him  and  his  mas 
ter,  that  wagging  it  was  out  of  the  question. 

Scarcely  had  HARRY  HARSON  (for  that  was  the  old  man's 
name)  resumed  his  pipe  and  paper,  when  Spite  broke  out 
into  a  sudden  and  vociferous  bark,  looking  keenly  at  the 
door.  The  cause  of  this  outcry  was  explained  by  a  heavy 
step  in  the  ante-chamber,  a  fumbling  at  the  knob  of  the 
door,  a  muttered  exclamation  of  impatience  at  delay  in  find 
ing  it,  a  violent  flinging  open  of  the  door,  and  the  abrupt 
entrance  of  a  short,  broad-shouldered  man,  in  a  loose  great 
coat,  with  iron-gray  hair,  black  glowing  eyes,  and  a  dark 
complexion,  somewhat  ruddy  from  exposure.  Without 
speaking,  he  placed  his  hat  on  the  table,  went  to  the  chair 
occupied  by  the  dog,  ejected  him  without  the  least  regard 
to  a  remonstrance  made  by  that  worthy  animal ;  took  a  seat, 
stretched  his  feet  to  the  fire,  and  drove  both  hands  to  the 
very  bottom  of  his  breeches'  pockets,  where  he  clenched 
them  with  a  kind  of  sullen  ferocity,  and  looked  very  hard 
at  the  small  clock  over  the  fire-place.  After  maintaining 
this  attitude  for  some  moments,  he  turned  to  Harry  Harson, 
who  had  kept  on  smoking  without  uttering  a  word  :  '  I  wish 
I  was  dead!'  said  lie. 

Harson  drew  a  few  whiffs  of  his  pipe,  and  took  a  drink  of. 
toddy ;  but  made  no  reply. 


HARRY    HARSON.  23 

4 1  say,  I  wish  I  was  dead ! '  repeated  his  visitor  more 
emphatically,  drawing  his  hands  out  of  his  pockets,  and 
placing  a  palm  on  each  knee,  with  his  elbows  a-kimbo.  At 
the  same  time,>he  looked  Harry  Harson  full  in  the  face. 

*  Why,  what's  the  matter,  Frank  ? '  said  Harson,  taking 
his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  placing  it  on  the  table.  '  What 
troubles  you  ? ' 

'  Every  thing  troubles  me ! '  replied  the  other,  with  increas 
ing  warmth.  'This  world  is  n't  worth  living  in  ;  and  I'm  a 
nigger,  Sir  ;  positively  a  nigger.  I  've  no  time  of  my  own, 
Sir  ;  was  up  all  night  with  a  child  in  convulsions.  At  eight 
o'clock  this  morning  was  called  to  see  a  woman  die  of  small 
pox  ;  Avas  called  from  there  to  pump  out  the  stomach  of  a 
drunken  beast  who  had  swallowed  laudanum  ;  had  just  got 
through,  when  I  was  called  to  a  consultation,  whether  it 
was  best  to  blister  the  head  or  seat  of  a  gentleman  with 
some  other  complaint.  After  that,  found  on  my  slate  a 
memorandum  from  an  old  woman  troubled  with  flatulency, 
who  swore  it  was  inflammation  of  the  bowels.  Left  her  to 
visit  a  child  who  had  swallowed  a  cent  in  play ;  and  got 
home  just  in  time  to  receive  a  polite  note,  informing  me  that 
a  bill  of  ten  dollars  which  I  had  sent  to  the  Corporation,  for 
sewing  up  the  throat  of  a  man  who  had  cut  it  in  the  Tombs, 
had  been  reduced  by  the  Committee  on  Retrenchment  to 
five !  I  wish  I  was  dead !  If  I  do  n't,  damme  ! '  ^nd  by 
way  of  verifying  what  he  said,  he  slapped  his  hand  violently 
on  his  own  knee.  '  Sir,  I  'm  sick  of  being  a  doctor.  I  'm 
sick  of  being  a  man !  I  wish  I  was  that  infernal  ugly, 
asthmatic,  pop-eyed,  black-nosed,  cross-grained,  pug-dog  of 
yours  !  I  'd  sooner  be  that  than  a  man.  I  would,  I  swear  ! ' 

*  Spite  is  a  very  good  little  dog,'  said  Harry,  mildly,  look 
ing  kindly  at  his  favorite.     *  He 's  very  inoffensive.' 

*  Well,  he  may  be,'  said  the  Doctor ;   *  but  he 's  cursed 

2 


24  HARRY    H ARSON. 

ugly;  but  he's  better  than  a  doctor.  Sew  up  a  man's 
throat  for  five  dollars,  Sir !  Think  of  that!  Only  let  me 
have  the  sewing  up  of  the  throat  of  one  of  that  Committee 
on  Retrenchment,  that 's  all !  I  '11  stitch  it  straight  through 
the  neck,  in  one  side  and  out  the  other.  If  I  do  n't, 
damme ! ' 

'  Come,  come,  my  old  fellow  ;  do  n't  be  in  a  passion,'  said 
Harson,  going  to  the  fire,  and  taking  up  a  pitcher  which 
stood  there.  *  Here  's  something  to  comfort  you.  I  've  kept 
it  hot  for  you.  You  do  n't  see  stuff  like  that  every  day.' 

'  I  'm  not  in  a  passion,'  replied  his  visitor,  without  attend 
ing  to  the  latter  part  of  his  remark,  '  I  swear  I  'm  not. 
Curse  it,  Sir,  do  n't  say  I  'm  in  a  passion ;  I  hate  to  be  told 
I  'm  in  a  passion  ;  I  never  was  cooler  in  all  my  life.'  Which 
last  assertion,  if  true,  certainly  showed  that  his  ordinary 
degree  of  temperature  was  a  high  one. 

4  Well,  well,  drink  your  toddy,'  said  Harson,  holding  up 
the  pitcher,  and  pouring  some  of  its  contents  into  a  mug 
similar  to  his  own ;  *  and  do  n't  try  to  pick  a  quarrel  with 
me.' 

The  Doctor  looked  at  him  without  speaking.  At  first  his 
eye  glowed ;  but  as  it  rested  on  the  mild  face  of  the  old 
man,  who  stood  opposite  to  him  filling  his  pipe,  it  encoun 
tered  something  there  which  could  not  be  withstood.  Its 
expression  gradually  softened  ;  and,  at  length,  when  Harson 
looked  up,  and  pushed  the  mug  toward  him,  and  handed 
him  his  pipe,  and  their  eyes  met,  there  was  something  very 
like  a  tear  in  the  Doctor's,  as  he  said : 

*  What,  Harry  !  my  old  boy,  quarrel  with  you !  I  'd  tear 
my  tongue  out  first !  Friends  are  not  scattered  so  plentifully 
along  the  road-side  of  life,  that  a  man  can  fling  them  oif  liko 
worn-out  clothes.  Some  find  that  out  young  ;  but  all  find 


HARRY    H ARSON.  25 

it  out  before  they  go  to  their  graves,  if  they  live  to  grow 
old.' 

'  So  they  do,  Frank ;  so  they  do !  God  help  those  who 
have  none  ! 

The  old  man  grasped  the  hand  which  was  now  stretched 
out  to  meet  his,  and  their  little  difference  was  forgotten. 
For  some  moments  both  smoked  their  pipes  in  silence,  as  if 
engaged  in  moralizing  over  the  last  remark.  Their  silence, 
however,  was  of  short  duration;  for  the  dog  suddenly 
started  up ;  uttered  a  short,  sharp,  yelping  bark ;  looked 
fiercely  at  the  door,  and  then  cast  a  suggestive  glance  at  his 
master,  as  if  to  say :  '  My  old  fellow,  there 's  something 
there  which  had  better  be  looked  to.' 

Harry  Harson  was  too  busy  with  his  own  thoughts  to 
pay  much  attention  to  the  dog ;  nor  was  it  until  the  outcry 
of  that  respectable  animal,  incensed  at  his  suggestion  being 
slighted,  became  exceedingly  vehement,  that  he  started  up 
and  said :  '  'Od  rot  it,  pup  !  what  ails  you  ? '  The  dog  turned 
an  indignant  eye  upon  his  master,  and  then  looked  at  the 
door.  At  the  same  time,  a  sound  came  from  the  outer 
room,  not  unlike  a  low,  stifled  cry. 

'  God  bless  me !  Frank,'  exclaimed  the  old  man,  starting 
forward,  '  I  do  believe  the  dog 's  right.  There  must  be  some 
one  there.'  He  paused,  and  listened;  but  the  sound  was 
not  repeated.  'I  certainly  did  hear  something,'  said  he; 
'  I  '11  see  to  it.'  Saying  this,  he  threw  open  the  door  so  as  to 
admit  the  light  into  the  room  which  adjoined  the  street,  and 
hurried  out.  In  a  few  moments  he  returned,  bearing  in  his 
arms  something  which  looked  like  a  bundle  of  rags.  Going 
to  the  light,  he  sat  down,  and  as  he  did  so  he  raised  his  arm, 
and  a  long  mass  of  bright  golden  hair  fell  back  across  it, 
revealing  the  pale,  wasted  face  of  a  little  girl,  scarcely  six 
years  of  age.  How  beautiful  that  face  was !  how  sadly 


26  HARRY    H ARSON. 

beautiful !  for  amid  all  the  freshness  of  childhood  there  was 
a  look  of  care,  as  if  old  age  had  prematurely  crept  into  her 
bosom  and  placed  its  stamp  upon  her  heart. 

'A  child  !  a  mere  child  1 '  said  the  old  man,  as  he  passed 
his  hand  through  her  hair ;  *  a  poor,  half-starved,  broken- 
down  little  child:  get  some  water,  Frank,'  said  he  to  his 
crony,  who  stood  twisting  his  fingers  together,  and  thrusting 
his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  drawing  them  out  again  with 
great  energy,  as  if  infected  with  a  strong  inclination  to  per 
form  some  action,  the  nature  of  which  he  had  not  yet 
ascertained. 

*  Give  her -some  wine  !'  exclaimed  he,  suddenly.     '  Where 
is  it?' 

*  In  the  cupboard,  on  the  top  shelf.   Quick,  Frank  !    Poor 
little  thing  !  how  thin  she  is !' 

Frank  rushed  to  the  cupboard;  seized  the  bottle  with 
both  hands,  and  attempted  to  draw  the  cork  with  his  teeth  ; 
failing  in  this,  he  snatched  up  a  knife,  and  with  the  back  of 
it  struck  off  the  neck  of  the  bottle  at  a  blow,  and  dashed 
part  of  its  contents  into  a  tumbler. 

Spite,  equally  excited,  sprang  upon  a  table,  and  with  his 
legs  wide  apart,  to  give  himself  a  firm  footing,  closed  both 
eyes,  and  pointing  his  nose  to  the  ceiling,  barked  vociferously. 

Pausing  every  few  moments  to  clear  his  throat,  the  Doc 
tor,  in  good  earnest,  set  about  restoring  his  unexpected  pa 
tient  ;  and  it  was  not  long  before  her  eyes  opened,  and  she 
became  aware  of  what  had  passed. 

Harry  Harson  was  not  the  man  to  leave  his  good  work 
half-completed ;  and  telling  his  companion  to  bring  the  light, 
he  took  the  child  in  his  arms,  carried  her  to  his  room,  and 
placed  her  in  his  own  bed  :  and  ringing  for  a  female  servant 
who  had  lived  with  him  for  many  years,  he  left  her  to  her 
care,  first  directing  her  to  prepare  a  nutritious  beverage 


HARRY    HARSON.  27 

which  the  Doctor  had  prescribed ;  wisely  judging  that  rest 
and  food  were  what  she  most  required. 

'  Frank,'  said  Harson,  as  he  once  more  seated  himself  in 
is  arm-chair,  and  applied  his  mug  to  his  lips ;  '  that  child 
as  had  hard  usage.' 

'  That  she  has,'  replied  the  other. 

'  There  are  great  brutes  in  this  world,  Frank.' 

'  D d  ones ! '  answered  the  Doctor. 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  Harson  looked  in  the 
fire,  at  the  clock,  and  on  the  floor.  At  last,  his  eyes  rested 
on  the  face  of  his  companion.  '  I  hope  she  won't  be  sick  ; 
but  you  '11  see  to  her  to-morrow,  will  you,  Frank  ? ' 

The  Doctor  nodded  ;  and  again  Harson  paused  and  seemed 
embarrassed.  At  last  he  said  :  'You  know,  Frank,  that  I 
am  well-to-do  in  the  world ;  and  that  any  expense ' 

He  paused  abruptly ;  for  the  Doctor,  who  was  in  the  act 
of  raising  his  mug  to  his  lips,  suddenly  put  it  down,  without 
tasting  its  contents,  and  laying  his  pipe  beside  it,  looked 
him  full  in  the  face.  '  Well 1 ' 

There  was  something  in  that  single  monosyllable  so 
strongly  indicative  of  hostility,  that  Harson  waited  until  the 
Doctor  repeated  it.  '  Well  ?  You  said  you  were  well-to-do 
in  this  world.  What  then  ? ' 

'Come,  come,  Frank,  keep  your  temper!'  said  Harson, 
mildly.  '  You  know  very  well  what  I  was  going  to  say ; 
arid  you  must  not  get  vexed  at  it.' 

'Yes,  I  do  know  what  you  were  going  to  say.  You 
wanted  to  tell  me  that  I  had  no  right  to  help  that  child 
without  your  paying  for  it.  I  'm  not  vexed,  Harry,  not  in 
the  least :  but  that 's  all  cursed  nonsense.  She 's  my 
patient.' 

'  But  she 's  in  my  house.' 

'  I  do  n't  care  if  she  is,'  replied  the  Doctor,  rapidly  in- 


28  HARRY    H ARSON. 

creasing  in  warmth.  'I  don't  care  whose  house  she's  in, 
Come  here  I  will.  Attend  her  I  will,  at  all  times,  morning, 
noon,  and  night,  at  all  hours :  and  I  '11  blister,  purge,  leech, 
bleed,  cup,  vomit  —  ay,  and  I  '11  do  a  hundred  other  things,  if 
it's  necessary.  Let  me  tell  you  that;  yes,  and  without  a 
single  cent,  whether  you  like  it  or  not.  I  'd  like  to  see  you 
prevent  it !  I  '11  come  to-morrow,  at  day-light,  Sir  ;  and  if 
you  do  n't  open  the  door,  I  '11  break  it  down.  See  if  I  do  n't ! ' 

As  he  concluded  this  speech,  he  rose  from  his  chair,  and 
clapping  his  hat  on  his  head,  left  the  house.  Harson  followed 
him  out,  and  called  after  him,  but  he  made  no  reply  ;  and  the 
old  man  returned  to  the  room,  and  stood  in  front  of  the  fire, 
sad  at  heart  that  any  word  of  his,  however  kindly  meant, 
should  have  sent  an  old  friend  from  his  roof  with  an  unkind 
feeling.  While  he  was  standing  there,  the  door  was  opened 
ajar,  and  the  head  of  the  Doctor  was  thrust  in. 

*  Harry,  my  old  fellow,'  he  said,  in  very  different  tones 
from  those  which  Harson  had  last  heard,  *  are  you  angry 
with  me  ? ' 

'  No,  Frank,  no.' 

'Nor  am  I  with  you.  God  bless  you,  Harry.  Good 
night!' 

The  door  was  shut  with  a  slam ;  and  the  next  moment, 
the  sound  of  the  gate  swinging  against  the  gate-post,  showed 
that  the  Doctor  was  in  the  street. 


HARRY   HARSON.  29 


CHAPTER      III. 

MRS.  CHOWLES  was  the  name  of  an  elderly  lady  who  was 
the  confidential  adviser  of  Harry  liaison  in  all  cases  of  emer 
gency  ;  and  as  he  regarded  the  unexpected  addition  of  the 
child  to  his  family  in  that  light,  he  determined  to  speak 
with  her  on  the  subject  without  loss  of  time ;  and  towards 
her  dwelling  he  accordingly  directed  his  steps. 

It  was  in  a  dim,  unfrequented  part  of  the  city ;  one  of 
those  out-of-the-way,  shut-up  streets,  which  are  found  in  the 
heart  even  of  this  great,  ever-changing  metropolis,  where 
the  casual  tread  of  a  passer-by  awakens  echoes  which  startle 
the  quiet  tenants  of  the  neighborhood,  and  draw  to  the 
windows  heads  and  faces,  and  caps  and  head-gear,  that  might 
have  belonged  to  the  last  century.  Grass  grows  in  the  cre 
vices  of  the  stones  in  the  summer  season ;  and  tall  weeds, 
taking  root  in  the  gutters  and  on  the  eaves  of  the  houses, 
nod  sociably  to  plants  of  the  same  vagabond  family,  who, 
more  aspiring  than  themselves,  have  gained  a  foothold  in 
the  moss  which  clings  to  the  roofs.  Time  had  played  queer 
antics  in  other  parts  of  the  city,  and  made  a  fearful  pulling 
down,  remodelling,  building  up,  laying  out  of  streets ;  shut 
ting  up  gardens,  extinguishing  blinking  old  windows,  altering 
gray,  antiquated  houses  into  prim,  fashionable  new  ones ; 
and  throwing  such  an  air  of  dashing  juvenility  about  their 
crumbling  frames,  that  those  who  had  grown  old  in  their 
precincts  became  sad  to  see  the  change.  These,  and  many 
things  of  a  like  nature,  had  been  going  on  in  other  parts  of 
the  town ;  but  this  little  spot  had  dodged  the  general 


80  HARRY    HARSON. 

improvement,  and  now  had .  a  frightened,  wary  expression, 
and  seemed  to  eye  with  suspicion  every  one  who  broke  in 
upon  its  solitude. 

It  was  in  this  quiet  nook,  and  in  a  sleepy  old  house,  with 
wooden  shutters  and  a  great  semicircular  cut  in  each  of 
them,  like  a  half-closed  eye,  that  the  lady  lived.  She  was  a 
widow  ;  and  many  years  since  had  deposited  a  cross-grained 
husband  under  the  ground,  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  her 
friends,  but  to  her  own  great  grief;  for  she  was  a  warm 
hearted,  high-tempered  woman,  and,  in  spite  of  his  foibles,  had 
clung  to  the  gnarled  old  trunk,  around  which  her  affec 
tions  had  twined  themselves  in  youth,  with  a  devotion 
unaccountable  to  all.  Harry  Harson  had  been  the  friend 
of  her  husband,  and  at  his  death  he  became  hers.  Year 
in  and  year  out,  he  had  gone  to  and  from  that  house, 
as  unceremoniously  as  if  it  had  been  his  own;  and  always 
found  a  hand  to  welcome  him,  and  a  ready  smile  to  greet 
him  and  his  dog;  not  but  that  he  and  the  ]ady  had 
their  hours  of  storm  as  well  as  sunshine;  for,  to  tell  the 
truth,  high  words  often  passed  between  them ;  but  even 
though  they  might  occasionally  part  in  dudgeon,  it  was  for 
gotten  by  both,  and  the  next  evening  for  Harry's  visit  saw 
him  there,  the  same  as  ever ;  and  he  always  found  the  great 
oaken  arm-chair  drawn  out,  his  pipe  filled,  and  a  mug  of  hot 
toddy,  mixed  by  the  widow's  own  hand,  waiting  his  arrival ; 
just  as  if  his  arrival  were  a  matter  of  course. 

It  was  a  Christmas  day,  or  rather  the  day  was  fast  fading 
into  twilight,  as  Harry  turned  the  corner  of  the  street  in 
which  Mrs.  Chowles  lived.  He  was  in  a  gay  mood  that 
evening.  His  step  was  light  and  buoyant,  and  he  hummed 
a  merry  old  Christmas  song  as  he  went.  Occasionally  he  inter 
rupted  it  to  bestow  a  friendly  word  upon  Spite,  who,  close  at 
his  heels  and  as  gay  as  his  master,  ambled  along  on  three 


HARRY    H ARSON.  31 

legs ;  the  fourth,  after  an  affectation  common  to  small  dogs, 
being  kept  as  a  corps  de  reserve,  and  only  used  to  aid  him 
in  skipping  over  a  gutter,  or  a  puddle  of  unusual  magnitude. 

Harry  Harson  had  passed  his  Christmas  evenings  with  the 
widow  as  long  as  he  could  remember.  It  was  a  pleasant 
thing  to  see  how  familiarly  he  raised  the  latch  and  with 
what  confidence  he  walked  in,  like  one  sure  of  a  welcome. 
As  one  of  the  neighbors  sagaciously  observed,  '  it  was  a  sight 
to  see  him.' 

He  stepped  briskly  across  the  cleanly-swept  room,  into 
which  the  street-door  opened,  and  with  a  free-and-easy  air 
knocked  at  the  door  of  an  inner  room,  into  which  none  but 
Mrs.  Chowles  and  a  few  of  her  special  cronies  were  admitted. 

*  Who  's  there  ? '  demanded  a  shrill  voice. 

Her  visitor  did  not  answer,  but  repeated  his  knock,  anv. 
stood  with  his  full  face  beaming  with  fun,  ready  to  enjoy  her 
surprise,  when  she  should  open  the  door  and  discover  who 
was  there.  But  it  did  not  open  as  soon  as  he  expected,  and 
the  same  voice  exclaimed,  *  Get  you  gone.  I  want  none  of 
your  company.  No  one  shall  come  in  at  this  hour,  not  even 
if  it  were  honest  old  Harry  Harson  himself.' 

*  I  have  something  of  importance  to  tell  you,  and  I  came 
early,'  said  Harry,  not  a  little  humbled ;  which  same  humility 
deprived  his  voice  of  so  much  of  its  usual  hearty  tone  that 
the  woman  did  not  recognize  it. 

'  Away  with  you ! '  she  repeated,  in  the  same  exalted  key. 
'  You  may  knock  till  doom's  day  ;  but  come  in  you  ska  n't  f* 

Harry's  heart  was  full.  Man  and  boy,  for  thirty  years,  he 
had  spent  his  Christmas  evenings  in  that  little  back-room. 
He  had  occupied  the  same  corner,  the  same  chair,  and  the 
same  little  tripod-stand  on  which  to  place  his  toddy,  and  rest 
the  end  of  his  long  pipe,  as  he  smoked ;  and  now  he  wa? 
turned  away  like  a  dog !  He  thumped  the  end  of  his  stick  on 


32  HARRY    U ARSON. 

the  floor,  as  much  as  to  say  that  he  hoped  the  devil  might 
catch  him  if  ever  he  crossed  that  threshold  again.  He  cast  a 
glance  at  Spite,  who  had  turned  short  upon  his  auxiliary 
leg,  and  was  looking  at  him  with  an  eye  whose  expression 
indicated  that  if  his  master  stomached  that,  he  was  not  the 
man  he  took  him  to  be,  and  turned  to  go. 

There  was  something  peculiar  in  that  thump  of  the  cudgel, 
and  in  the  step  of  the  man,  which  caught  the  ear  of  the  lady, 
who  was  listening  at  the  key-hole  for  the  purpose  of  being 
ready  with  a  retort  to  any  reply  with  which  the  intruder 
might  feel  disposed  to  favor  her ;  and  she  opened  the  door 
only  in  time  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  broad-skirted  coat  of 
a  man,  and  the  tightly-curled  tail  of  a  dog,  as  they  passed 
out. 

'Harry  Harson  !  Harry  Harson  !  I  say,'  exclaimed  she,  in 
turn  almost  melted  into  tears,  as  she  saw  her  warm-hearted 
crony  leaving  her  house  fairly  provoked.  *  Come  back, 
Harry !  Where  are  you  going  ? ' 

Harry  heard  her  well  enough,  but  he  would  not  give  in 
at  once,  and  went  stoutly  out  into  the  street ;  for  he  well 
knew  that  there  was  another  entrance  to  the  house,  which 
the  widow  could  reach  from  within  much  sooner  than  he 
could  from  without ;  and  he  walked  slowly  to  give  her  time. 
True  to  his  expectation,  the  widow  was  there,  and  as  he  was 
passing,  without  saying  a  word,  she  seized  him  by  the  arm 
and  dragged  him  through  a  dark  alley,  and  across  divers 
passages,  cluttered  up  with  pails,  pots,  pans,  and  other 
mysterious  utensils  for  family  purposes ;  nor  did  she  release 
her  grasp  until  she  had  fairly  seated  him  in  his  usual  corner. 
Having  him  safely  caged,  she  felt  that  she  might  with  pro 
priety  indulge  a  slight  outbreak  of  anger,  and,  turning  sharply 
upon  him,  she  asked  : 

*  What 's  the  meaning  of  this,  Harry  ?     What  has  put  it 


HARRY   H ARSON.  33 

into  your  head  to  treat  an  old  friend  after  this  fashion? 
I  'm  ashamed  of  you ! ' 

'  You  would  not  let  me  in,'  said  Harson,  gravely. 

'  Who  knew  it  was  you  ? '  rejoined  the  widow. 

'  You  said,  even  if  it  were  me,  that  I  should  n't  come  in,T 
replied  Harson. 

*  Yes,  but  I  did  n't  know  that  your  two  ears  were  within 
hearing.  I  wanted  to  make  what  I  said  impressive.  But 
come ;  have  done  with  this ;  I'll  have  no  squabbling  on 
Christmas  day.' 

'  Ah  !  Spite,  poor  Spite !  Spite !  Spite !  Spite ! '  said  she, 
turning  to  the  dog,  and  snapping  her  fingers  in  the  most 
insinuating  manner ;  but  Spite,  pup  and  dog,  had  been  there 
as  punctually  and  nearly  as  long  as  his  master  ;  and  although 
a  small  dog,  he  was  a  high-stomached  one.  He  felt  that  he 
had  been  turned  off,  too  ;  and  was  not  to  be  brought  round 
at  the  first  word ;  so,  after  looking  coldly  at  her,  he  turned 
stiffly  away,  and  walked  with  a  tight  tail  to  a  corner,  like  a 
dog  resolved  not  to  be  taken  in  by  specious  professions.  But 
the  widow  knew  the  soft  spot  in  the  dog's  heart  as  well  as 
in  his  master's.  So  she  got  up,  took  from  a  shelf  in  the 
kitchen  a  small  woollen  mat,  and  placing  it  directly  in  front 
of  the  fire,  again  made  friendly  overtures.  Spite,  by  this 
time,  had  discovered  that  the  corner  which  he  had  selected 
for  his  retreat  was  too  much  ventilated  by  a  large  rat- 
hole  in  its  immediate  vicinity,  and  being  an  invalid,  and 
subject  to  attacks  of  rheumatism,  in  the  lower  joint  of  his 
right  hind-leg,  suffered  himself  to  be  mollified,  and  was 
finally  induced,  as  an  act  of  great  condescension,  to  repose 
upon  the  mat  aforesaid,  where  he  dozed  and  snored  for  the 
rest  of  the  evening,  occasionally  enlivening  the  conversation 
by  a  sudden  sharp  yelp,  as,  awakened  by  the  heat,  he  testily 
shifted  his  position,  and  turned  his  cold  side  to  the  fire. 

2* 


34  HARRY   II ARSON. 

It  was  a  snug,  warm  little  room  in  which  they  were, 
serving  partly  as  a  kitchen  and  partly  as  a  gossiping-room 
for  the  widow  and  her  cronies.  A  high  dresser,  with  plates, 
pans,  kettles,  and  snow-white  crockery  glittering  in  the  light 
<>f  the  fire,  and  reflecting  fifty  little  fires  on  their  surfaces, 
stood  in  one  corner.  In  another,  was  a  wide  antiquated 
mahogany  table,  as  black  as  jet,  and  shining  so  that  one 
might  see  his  face  in  it ;  and  standing  cheek  by  jowl  with  it 
was  a  huge  mahogany  bureau,  with  two  brass  handles  hang 
ing  like  door-knockers  to  each  drawer.  Then  there  were 
wide-seated  chairs  with  great  crooked  legs,  and  leathern 
bottoms,  and  prim  little  wooden  ones  with  straight  legs  and 
uncomfortable  backs,  and  low  wooden  stools  for  the  feet,  and 
a  queer,  oddly-shaped,  diminutive  arm-chair  with  a  mended 
leg,  probably  intended  for  the  use  of  some  old-fashioned 
child.  On  the  floor  was  a  thick,  soft  rag-carpet,  covering 
the  whole  of  it,  excepting  the  great  stone  hearth  which 
extended  at  least  five  feet  into  the  room  ;  and  lastly,  on  the 
edge  of  this  same  hearth,  was  a  small  mahogany  stand  with 
three  legs,  on  which  stood  Harry  Harson's  mug  of  hot 
toddy ;  and  on  which  rested  Harry  Harson's  elbow,  and  the 
end  of  his  long  pipe ;  and  beside  which  was  a  capacious 
arm-chair,  with  a  high  back  and  huge  carved  arms,  and  a 
pair  of  bandy  legs,  in  which  was  seated  the  burly  figure  of 
Harson  himself. 

The  widow  drew  a  chair  to  the  small  stand,  and  taking 
up  her  work,  seated  herself  near  the  light  and  commenced 
sewing.  Her  companion  lighted  his  pipe,  and  permitting  it 
to  rest  idly  on  the  table,  looked  around  the  room. 

4  You  .are  very  snug  here,  Mrs.  Chowles,'  said  he,  after  he 
had  finished  his  survey.  'Very  snug;  you  must  be  very 
happy  here.' 

The  widow  glanced  hastily  at  him,  and  replied  :  '  Yes,  yes, 


HARRY    HARSON  35 

Harry,  I  am  quite  contented  —  at  least  I  hope  I  am  ;  but 
t  Ve  been  happier  here ;  and  one  ca  n  't  always  forget.  But 
all  is  very  comfortable  about  me :  and  I  've  much  to  be 
thankful  for.  I  know  it,  Harry ;  and  I  endeavor  always  to 
keep  it  in  my  mind.' 

Harson  for  some  moments  did  not  interrupt  the  pause 
which  succeeded  the  reply  of  the  woman ;  and  when  he  did, 
his  words  caused  Mrs.  Chowles  to  look  at  him  with  some 
surprise ;  for  he  murmured,  as  if  speaking  to  himself :  *  Poor 
child !  so  young,  and  to  have  seen  so  much  suffering ! ' 

Apparently  unconscious  that  he  had  spoken,  Harson  re 
sumed  his  pipe,  and  surrounded  himself  with  a  thick  halo 
of  smoke,  without  saying  another  word.  Mrs.  Chowles, 
however,  broke  in  upon  his  reverie  by  inquiring  where  his 
wits  were ;  a  question  wV.ih  caused  the  old  man  to  look  up 
more  bewildered  than  ever,  for  at  that  moment  the  objects 
of  her  inquiry  were  very  busily  engaged  with  the  child 
whom  he  had  left  under  hi:  ^wn  roof.  Drawing  his  chaii 
closer  to  the  chimney-place,  stretching  his  feet  to  the  fire, 
and  having  excited  the  curiosity  of  the  widow  to  agony- 
pitch  by  telling  her  that  he  had  something  of  importance  to 
communicate,  and  by  delaying  this  communication  until  he 
had  looked  at  his  dog  to  see  that  he  was  comfortable ;  and 
by  clearing  his  throat  and  sipping  his  toddy,  and  by  puffing 
deliberately  at  his  pipe  to  clear  his  ideas,  and  by  getting  up 
to  shake  the  cushion  of  his  chair,  and  by  sundry  other  small 
performances,  usually  preparatory  to  confidential  communica 
tions,  which  nearly  bring  about  the  death  of  the  expectant 
listener,  if  such  listener  be  of  a  fidgetty  temperament, 
Harson  began  his  story,  and  recounted  such  meagre  particu 
lars  respecting  the  child  as  he  had  been  able  to  glean  in  the 
course  of  the  day. 

And  few  enough  they  were ;  a  detail  of  want,  sickness 


36  HARRY   HARSON. 

and  suffering  ;  yet,  mingled  with  them  all,  was  a  vague  re 
collection  of  better  days,  of  times  and  places,  and  even  of 
persons,  which  started  up  in  her  memory  in  fitful  flashes  like 
familiar  things,  and  then  faded  away  until  she  thought  that 
she  must  have  seen  them  only  in  dreams,  and  that  wretched 
ness  was  the  only  reality  she  had  ever  known.  She  had  a 
dim  fancy,  too,  of  a  kind  face,  which  long  since  had  looked 
upon  her  often  and  often,  and  had  smiled  upon  her,  and 
pressed  its  shadowy  lips  to  her  cheek.  It  seemed  like  that 
of  an  old  friend ;  and  even  long  after  other  things  had 
grown  less  vivid  in  her  memory,  that  face  lingered  ;  but  it 
was  growing  more  and  more  dim,  and  it  sometimes  made 
her  sad  to  think  so ;  for  she  felt  as  if  an  old  friend  were 
leaving  her  forever.  Child  as  she  was,  she  had  thought 
much  of  it,  and  wondered  why  that  same  face  should  appear 
so  often,  and  why  she  should  love  it  above  all  others,  and 
whether  she  had  ever  seen  it  elsewhere.  She  supposed  she 
had  not ;  for,  except  in  these  occasional  and  twilight  fancies, 
she  had  no  recollection  of  having  been  otherwise  than  she 
now  was.  These,  and  many  other  glimmerings  of  memory, 
mingled  with  such  sad  realities  of  her  history  as  made  his 
heart  ache,  Harson  had  gathered  from  the  child,  as  she  sat 
that  morning  on  a  small  bench  at  his  feet,  with  her  head 
leaning  against  his  knee. 

Mrs.  Chowles  laid  down  her  work  as  he  went  on  ;  and 
drawing  still  closer  to  him,  and  leaning  her  cheek  on  her 
hand,  and  fixing  her  eyes  on  his,  listened  with  deep  interest 
and  without  interrupting  him.  She  was  a  warm-hearted 
woman,  and  long  before  the  story  was  concluded  she  had 
formed  a  plan  for  the  child.  She  thought  how  snugly  she 
could  put  up  a  little  bed  in  that  room  for  her,  and  how 
cheeiful  she  would  make  the  house  ;  for  the  old  woman  was 
sociably  inclined ;  and  although  she  was  not  at  all  at  a  loss 


HARRY    H ARSON.  37 

for  cronies,  among  the  stiff-capped  dames  of  her  neighbor 
hood,  still  she  longed  for  the  merry  tone  of  a  child's  voice. 
How  cheerful  and  young  she  felt  as  she  thought  of  it !  How 
bright  and  youthful  her  withered  cheek  became,  and  how 
her  dark  eyes  lighted  up  to  the  old  lustre,  which  had  made 
them  not  to  be  gazed  on  with  impunity  in  days  gone  by ! 
Every  thing  was  settled  in  her  mind.  The  child  was  to 
come  to  her  house,  live  with  her,  and  sleep  in  that  very 
room.  She  would  be  a  pleasant  companion  on  the  long 
evenings,  and  would  make  her  fire-side  quite  gay  when  Harry 
should  come  to  visit  them.  But  Harson's  final  words  put  an 
end  to  her  plans. 

'  Well,  Mrs.  Chowles,'  said  he,  *  she 's  under  my  roof,  and 
so  help  me  Heaven  !  there  she  shall  stay  until  I  can  better 
her  situation.  She  has  left  a  brother  in  the  place  she  came 
from ;  but  she  knows  nothing  of  the  city,  and  ca  n't  even 
tell  the  name  of  the  street  where  it  was,  although  she  would 
know  the  spot  if  she  saw  it.  To-morrow  I  shall  apply  at 
the  police  for  a  warrant  against  the  woman.  The  child  says 
her  name  is  Blossom ;  and  perhaps  the  knowledge  of  that, 
may  put  the  officers  on  the  right  track  to  find  her  house. 
We  must  get  the  boy  out  of  her  hands,  or  this  child  will 
never  be  herself.' 

The  widow  looked  long  and  wistfully  at  the  old  man,  as 
if  desirous  of  saying  something.  At  last  she  inquired  : 

4  Wo'n't  she  trouble  you,  Harry  ?  Wo'n't  she  be  in  the 
way  in  your  house  ? ' 

'  Not  a  whit ! '  replied  Harson.  '  Beside,  widow,'  said  he, 
assuming  more  than  his  usual  earnestness,  'suppose  she 
were  ?  what  then  ?  Should  I  fling  her  back  to  those  from 
whom  she  came,  and  leave  her,  pure  and  spotless  as  she  now 
is,  in  the  power  of  those  who  would  make  her  what  I  blush 


38  HARRY    HARSON. 

to  name  ?     Surely  not,  surely  not !     Mrs.  Chowles,  can  you 
advise  such  a  course  ? ' 

As  he  spoke,  Harson  rested  his  pipe  on  the  table  and 
looked  in  the  face  of  his  friend  with  a  grave  seriousness 
which  showed  that  he  was  not  a  little  troubled  at  such  a 
suggestion  from  such  a  quarter. 

'  I  did  not  mean  that,'  said  Mrs.  Chowles,  not  a  little  con 
fused  at  the  misinterpretation  of  her  meaning.  *  I  thought 
that  if  she  were  in  your  way,  and  you  have  always  been  a 
single  man,  and  unused  to  the  ways  of  children,  might  have 
found  her  a  burden,  that,  as  I  was  here,  and  alone,  perhaps 
you  might  spare  her  to  me,  I  would  take  charge  of  her  until 
we  could  learn  something  more  about  her.' 

The  ice  fairly  broken,  the  widow  became  quite  urgent  in 
her  request ;  demonstrating  to  her  own  satisfaction  that  she 
liked  children  above  all  things,  and  more  particularly  a  child 
exactly  like  this  one  ;  and  how  pleasant  it  would  be  for  her 
to  have  her  in  the  house,  and  how  anxious  she  always  had 
been  to  have  some  one  about  her,  besides  the  deaf  woman- 
servant  who  served  as  cook,  waiter,  and  chambermaid  ;  and 
how  comfortable,  and  snug,  and  merry  they  would  be,  and 
how  much  better  it  would  be  for  the  child  to  be  with  her 
than  with  Harry,  or  in  fact  with  any  other  person  in  the 
world.  Having  consumed  her  breath  and  rhetoric  at  the 
same  time,  she  paused  for  a  reply. 

Harson,  when  she  began  to  answer,  had  listened  with  some 
anxiety ;  but  as  she  went  on,  his  expression  became  more 
complacent,  and  he  raised  his  pipe  to  his  mouth  and  smoked 
in  silence,  with  his  eyes  intently  fixed  on  her  face  until  she 
paused. 

'  Is  this  Lorillard's  best  ? '  inquired  he,  after  a  long  and 
thoughtful  interval  had  elapsed. 


HARRY    EAR  SON.  39 

*  Phsaw  ! '  interrupted  the  widow,  '  you  're  thinking  of  the 
tobacco,  when  I  'm  speaking  of  the  child.  What  do  you  say 
to  my  proposition  ? ' 

'  I  '11  think  of  it,'  replied  Harson.  '  At  present  I  say 
nothing,  one  way  or  the  other.' 

"While  the  widow  was  yet  urging  her  point,  the  door  had 
been  pushed  gently  open,  and  a  girl  of  about  seventeen  years 
of  age  had  entered  the  room,  and  seated  herself  without  being 
observed  by  either.  She  waited  until  there  was  a  pause  in 
the  conversation,  and  then  stepped  to  the  table  and  took  off 
her  bonnet,  putting  back  a  mass  of  bright  curls  that  fell 
across  her  eyes,  and  revealing  a  face  which  might  have  made 
many  a  young  heart  ache.  Still  she  was  not  observed  until 
she  laid  her  hand  on  Harson's  arm.,  and,  in  a  -low  voice, 
uttered  his  name.  The  old  man  turned,  looked  up,  and 
started  to  his  feet,  caught  both  her  hands  in  his. 

1  Kate  !  my  own  dear,  darling,  little  Kate  ! '  said  he,  shaking 
her  hands,  and  looking  in  her  face,  while  every  feature  in  his 
own  beamed  with  heartfelt  pleasure.  *  My  own  little  friend, 
how  is  it  with  you  ?  All  well  ?  I  see  it  in  that  merry  eye  I 
Well,  I  'm  glad  of  it,  Kate.  God  bless  you  !  May  it  always 
be  so.  How  is  the  old  man  ?  But  did  you  come  here 
alone  ? ' 

The  girl  hesitated  slightly,  and  then  said :  '  No  ;  some  one 
came  with  me  and  left  me  at  the  door.' 

'  I  thought  so,'  said  the  old  man,  laughing ;  *  and  I  '11 
wager  my  mug  of  toddy  against  the  head  of  a  pin,  that  I 
can  tell  who  that  *  some  one'  is.  Never  mind,  Kate  ;  you 
need  n't  blush.  He 's  a  fine  fellow ;  and  had  I  a  daughter, 
I  could  n't  wish  her  better  luck  than  to  get  such  a  husband 
as  Ned  Somers.  He's  poor,  it 's  true,  but  never  fear  ;  he'll 
push  his  way  in  the  world.  It's  in  him  ;  and  the  day  will 
come  when  he'll  hold  his  head  with  the  best  of  them 
Come,  sit  down ;  here  's  a  chair.' 


40  HARR?    U  ARSON. 

Although  the  girl  laughed,  her  manner  showed  that  she 
was  ill  at  ease;  and,  light-hearted  as  she  seemed,  Harry 
Harson  soon  observed  that  there  was  something  in  her  mind 
which  troubled  her.  Supposing  that  she  had  called  ,for  the 
purpose  of  speaking  with  Mrs.  Chowles  alone,  he  got  up, 
and  taking  his  hat  and  cane,  said  that  he  must  go. 

'  I  left  the  child  far  from  well,'  said  he,  *  and  1  shall  feel 
anxious  till  I  know  how  she  is.  Good  night.  Come,  Spite.' 

Spite  turned  testily  on  his  mat,  gaped  until  his  jaws 
seemed  on  the  eve  of  cracking,  and  then  leisurely  got  up. 
No  sooner,  however,  did  Harson  prepare  to  go,  than  the  girl 
rose,  and  putting  on  her  bonnet,  said  she  would  accompany 
him,  as  she  had  something  to  communicate  to  him ;  and 
that  he  could  leave  her  at  her  father's  house,  which  they 
would  pass  on  his  way  home.  4  If  Ned  comes,'  said  she  to 
the  widow,  Hell  him  I'm  gone,  and  with  whom.  Good 
night.' 

To  say  that  tho  widow  had  no  curiosity  to  know  what 
this  communication  might  be,  would  be  stating  what  was 
not  the  fact ;  for  although  she  dropped  nothing  to  lead  to  a 
surmise  that  such  was  the  case,  yet  she  followed  them  to  the 
door  in  the  hope  that  something  might  leak  out  to  furnish  a 
clue  to  this  mysterious  interview  ;  and  for  some  time  after 
they  were  gone,  and  their  forms  hid  by  a  turn  in  the  street, 
she  stood  at  the  door  looking  in  the  direction  which  they 
had  taken.  Deriving  no  peculiar  information  from  this 
species  of  airing,  she  retired  to  her  room,  where  she  again 
wondered  and  pondered  until  she  was  aroused  by  a  knock 
at  the  door,  and  the  entrance  of  a  young  man,  in  obedience 
to  a  command'  from  her  to  that  effect,  which  followed  the 

knock. 

'  Good  evening,  Mrs.  Chowles,'  said  he,  looking  around 

him  ;  *  but  where  's  Kate  ? ' 


HARRY   H ARSON.  41 

'  Gone  home,'  replied  the  widow,  *  Harry  Harson  went  with 
her.  She  wanted  to  speak  with  him.  Wo'n't  you  come  in, 
Mr.  Somers  ? ' 

'  No,  thank  you,'  replied  the  young  man.  « I  'm  glad  she 
has  seen  him.  If  any  one  has  influence  to  help  her,  he  can. 
But  I  must  be  off.  Good  night.'  And,  without  stopping 
to  explain  the  mystery,  he  too  went  off,  leaving  Mrs. 
Chowles  as  much  in  the  dark  as  ever. 


42  HARRY    HARSON. 


CHAPTEE IY. 

A  GLORIOUS  night  it  was;  and  the  moon  shone  down 
upon  the  tall  houses,  lighting  up  the  seams  which  time  had 
scored  in  their  old  faces ;  giving  them  a  cold,  gray,  corpse- 
like  look,  and  shining  upon  the  quaint  old  chimneys  which 
stood  high  on  the  house-tops,  stark  and  stiff,  like  frozen 
statues,  and  sparkling,  and  glittering,  and  twinkling  on  the 
cold  window-panes,  as  if  in  rivalry  of  the  fire-lights  which 
gleamed  from  the  black  shado\vs  thrown  by  the  opposite 
buildings,  like  the  glowing  eyes  of  some  great  monster, 
keeping  an  unwinking  watch  on  passers-by.  How  still  and 
quiet  it  was !  Even  the  light  foot-fall  of  the  girl  awoke  an 
echo  ;  yet  it  was  not  a  dead  hush  ;  for  far  off,  like  the  hum 
of  a  distant  hive,  was  heard  the  throbbing  of  the  great  city. 
With  the  girl  hanging  on  his  arm,  Harson  took  his  way 
through  the  street,  walking  stoutly  along,  and  thumping  his 
cane  down,  and  stepping  somewhat  proudly,  and  even  more 
vigorously  than  he  was  wont  to  do ;  for  some  how  or  other, 
old  as  he  was,  and  he  made  no  secret  of  his  years,  there  was 
an  indefinable  feeling,  that  could  scarcely  be  called  vanity, 
which  made  him  desirous  of  appearing  in  the  eyes  of  the 
young  girl  who  tripped  at  his  side  to  be,  not  absolutely  a 
young  fellow,  for  that  he  did  not  pretend  to  be,  but  a  hale, 
hearty  old  one ;  and  that  he  really  was,  and  a  sturdy  one 
too,  who  had  an  arm  to  defend  her,  ay,  and  a  fist  that  might 
have  proved  an  unpleasant  deposit  on  a  gentleman's  nose,  or 
even  in  one  of  his  eyes.  The  old  man  was  proud  of  his 
charge  ;  and  well  he  might  be ;  for  as  he  walked  along  and 
looked  down  in  her  glad  face,  as  the  full  moon  shone  upon 
it  and  lighted  up  her  deep  blue  eyes,  bright  and  flashing 


HARRY    H ARSON.  43 

with  youth,  and  the  hopes  of  a  young  heart,  he  could  not 
help  thinking  that  she  was  very  beautiful;  and  that  if 
he  had  married  many  years  ago,  instead  of  being  the  stub 
born,  crusty,  obstinate  old  bachelor  that  he  was,  he  might 
have  had  a  daughter  like  her,  leaning  on  his  arm  and  look 
ing  to  him  for  counsel  and  love.  Then  across  his  mind 
floated  the  memory  of  one  long  since  gone ;  one  whom  he 
had  loved  when  he  was  a  mere  boy,  and  with  whom  he  had 
strolled  on  many  a  bright  night  like  this,  and  in  whose  face 
he  had  looked,  as  he  now  did  in  that  of  the  girl  at  his  side ; 
and  whose  eyes  had  rested  on  his,  and  in  whose  ears  he  had 
whispered  many  a  promise  and  many  a  hope ;  and  who  had 
entered  into  all  his  plans,  and  listened  to  them  without 
wearying ;  for  she,  poor  girl !  had  loved  him  well.  The 
flowers  of  many  a  year  had  bloomed  and  faded  over  her 
grave  since  then,  but  he  could  not  forget  her. 

'  She  was  like  you,  Kate,  very  like  you ;  indeed  she  was, 
Kate,'  muttered  he,  choking  down  a  feeling  which  even  then 
rose  in  his  throat,  and  making  an  abortive  attempt  at 
whistling. 

The  girl  looked  up,  as  if  expecting  him  to  say  something 
more,  and  then  simply  asked,  '  Who,  Harry  ? ' 

The  old  man  started  as  if  the  sound  of  another's  voice 
had  awakened  him  from  a  dream.  '  Did  you  speak,  Kate  ? 
Oh  !  ay,  I  remember  ;  I  was  dreaming,  I  was  dreaming;  sad 
dreams,  sad  dreams !  Never  mind,  Kate,  never  mind.  But 
Kate,'  said  he,  suddenly  stopping  short  in  his  walk  and 
facing  his  companion,  *  you  had  something  to  tell  me ;  and 
here  we  are  at  your  own  home,  and  I  have  been  talking  of 
other  things,  without  giving  you  a  chance  to  utter  a  word. 
It's  a  bright  night ;  we  '11  walk  up  and  down  here,  and 
you  can  tell  me  what  you  have  to  say.  Come,  Kate.' 

Although  the  girl  had  sought  the  interview,  and  had  come 


44  HARRY    EAR  SON. 

out  for  the  express  purpose  of  communicating  something 
to  him,  yet  now  she  seemed  to  find  it  far  from  easy  to 
commence. 

'  Is  it  about  the  old  man  ? '  asked  Harson,  after  nearly  a 
minute  had  elapsed  without  her  having  uttered  a  word ;  '  Is 
he  ill  ?  or  in  trouble  ? ' 

'  No,  no,  he 's  well ; '  replied  the  girl,  hastily ;  '  but—  he 's 
sadly  altered  in  manner.' 

*  He  's  old,  Kate,  very  old  ;  and  you  must  bear  with  him ; ' 
replied  Harson. 

*  Bear  with  him,  Harry ! '  repeated  she,  earnestly ;  '  is  there 
any  thing  that  I  would  not  do  for  him  ?     Oh !  no,  no !     It 
is   not   for   myself  that  I   speak.      But   he   has   strangely 
altered,  indeed;  and  I  fear, Harry,  that  all  is  not  as  it  should 
be.     He  sits  much  by  himself,  goes  out  much,  and  at  strange 
hours  for  one  like  him.     He  starts  at  every  noise,  and  now 
in  his  old  age,  when  his  mind  should  be  at  peace,  it  seems 
filled  with  fear.     Persons  come  to  see  him  who  never  used 
to  visit  him.     Heaven  grant  that  I  do  not  slander  them ; 
but  there  are  some  among  them  whose  faces  seem  blighted 
and  seared  by  God's  curse.     I  'm  afraid,  Harry,'  said  she, 
sinking  her  voice,  '  that  they  are  hatching  some  plot  to  lead 
him  to  his  ruin.     He  's  known  to  have  money,  and  what  is 
there  that  some  would  not  do  to  obtain  that  ?     A  man's 
gold  has  often  put  him  in  his  coffin.' 

Harson  walked  on  in  silence.  There  was  something  in 
the  impressive,  earnest  manner  of  the  girl,  that  startled 
him,  and  as  it  were  forced  the  very  truth  of  her  suspicion 
on  him ;  but  still  he  did  not  show  it ;  and  after  a  moment's 
silence  he  said  :  '  I  Ve  no  fear  for  his  life,  Kate  ;  as  for  the 
rest,  it  may  be  all  fancy.  His  going  out  at  unusual  hours 
may  have  excited  your  suspicions ;  and  these,  once  on  the 
alert,  would  lead  you  to  observe  many  peculiarities  of  man 
ner  which  had  hitherto  escaped  your  iiotice.  No,  no,  Kate ; 


HARRY    H ARSON.  45 

depend  on  it,  Jacob  Rhoneland  has  not  lived  till  eighty  to 
become  a  dupe  or  a  victim  in  his  old  age.' 

The  girl  shook  her  head  : '  I  wish  it  were  so,  indeed  I  do ! ' 
But  she  knew  that  it  was  otherwise,  and  so  she  told  Harson. 
Until  within  a  year  he  had  been  a  blithe-hearted  old  man  ; 
and  although  time  was  telling  upon  him,  he  bore  sturdily  up 
against  it,  and  made  his  home  a  snug  and  happy  one  for  his 
child.  But  about  a  year  previous,  a  man  had  come  there, 
a  stranger,  whom  she  had  never  seen  before.  He  had 
entered  the  house  without  ceremony,  and  asked  for  Rhone- 
land.  Her  father  had  started  as  he  saw  the  stranger,  and 
taking  him  by  the  arm  led  him  out  of  the  room.  From 
that  time  her  father  had  become  changed.  He  grew  moody 
and  irritable  ;  shunned  her  company,  and  spoke  little  to  her 
The  stranger  came  often ;  and  not  urifrequently  contrived  to 
drop  in  the  room  where  she  was,  and  endeavored  to  enter  into 
conversation  with  her.  But  the  old  man  watched  him  nar 
rowly,  and  he  seldom  found  a  chance  ;  but  although  he  thus 
balked  the.  humor  of  his  visitor,  it  was  evident  that  he  did 
it  with  fear.  But  now  and  then  there  were  transient  gleams 
of  his  former  kindliness  of  disposition,  when  his  heart  seemed 
to  struggle  against  its  bonds,  and  a  gush  of  his  old  affection 
welled  up  and  showed  itself.  And  at  times  like  these  when 
she  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  begged  him  to 
confide  in  her;  to  turn  his  back  upon  those  who  were 
breaking  him  down,  and  to  love  her  as  he  once  had  done ; 
he  would  put  her  aside  kindly,  and  tell  her  that  she  was  a 
child,  that  she  did  not  know  what  she  said,  but  that  she 
meant  well,  and  that  he  was  not  angry  with  her  ;  and  then, 
patting  her  on  the  head,  would  send  her  away.  At  other 
times  he  was  fierce  and  irritable ;  and  then  she  dared  not 
speak  to  him,  or  to  let  him  see  that  she  observed  his  mood, 
for  it  made  him  worse.  And  these  turns  generally  came  on 


46  HARRY   HARSOX. 

after  a  visit  from  the  stranger.  Such  was  the  substance  of 
the  girl's  story. 

'  He's  out  to-night,'  said  she,  '  and  I  was  afraid  to  stay 
alone  in  the  house ;  so  I  went  to  Mrs.  Chowles'.  Hist !  there 
he  comes,  now !  Do  n't  look  at  him ;  pretend  not  to  see 
him!' 

As  she  spoke,  she  pointed  to  a  person  who  was  approach 
ing.  He  was  a  large  man,  apparently  very  old,  but  still  a 
giant  in  frame.  He  passed  them  with  his  long  white  hair 
hanging  on  his  shoulders,  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  back, 
muttering  to  himself,  but  looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  left. 

*  He 's  on  his  way  home,'  said  the  girl,  in  a  whisper ;  '  he's 
been  with  him  to-night.' 

'  Him  S  who  ? '  inquired  Harson. 

'  The  strange  man.     *  Michael  Rust,'  he  calls  himself. 

They  both  stopped  and  watched  the  old  man  until  he  en- 
.tered  his  house ;  and  then  Harson  walked  slowly  on,  with 
the  hand  of  the  arm  which  supported  the  girl's  thrust  in  the 
breast  of  his  coat,  his  head  bent  forward,  and  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  ground.  At  last  he  looked  in  her  face,  and  observing 
something  in  its  expression  which  induced  him  to  believe 
that  she  had  something  farther  to  say,  he  asked : 

'  Is  that  all,  Kate  ? ' 

The  girl  hesitated  ;  at  last  she  said :  '  There  is  something 
else ;  about  myself.' 

Whatever  it  was  it  seemed  very  difficult  to  communicate ; 
for  she  paused  again,  until  Harson  said :  '  Well,  Kate ;  do  n't 
be  afraid  to  tell  me ;  look  upon  me  as  a  brother ;  an  old  bro 
ther — quite  an  old  one.  There,  go  on  now.' 

4 1  am  sure,'  said  she,  speaking  hurriedly,  and  in  a  low 
voice,  and  leaning  her  face  so  as  almost  to  touch  that  of  the 
eld  man,  '  that  this  man,  this  Rust,  has  spoken  to  father 


HARRY   EARS  ON.  47 

about  me  —  me  and  Ned.  He  do  n't  like  Ned  ;  he  has  met 
him  twice  at  the  house,  and  Ned  would  n't  give  up  to  him ; 
and  once  or  twice  he  put  him  down.  He  has  hated  Ned 
ever  since ;  and  I  am  sure  has  tried  to  get  father  to  forbid 
him  the  house.  Ned  thinks  so  too,  and  was  for  quarrelling 
with  him  at  once ;  but  I  advised  him  to  keep  quiet,  and  told 
him  that  I  would  speak  to  you  about  it.  I  hope  you  '11  ad 
vise  us  what  to  do,  Harry.' 

The  girl's  voice  became  thick  and  husky  as  she  spoke ; 
and  as  Harson  looked  at  her,  he  saw  that  she  was  very 
pale. 

*  What  does  your  father  say  ? '  inquired  he. 

'  He  likes  Ned,  and  would  n't  listen  to  it,  at  first ;  and  I 
thought  was  glad  to  see  Rust  cowed  before  him.  But  he 
begins  to  speak  differently  now;  although  he  does  not 
say  much.  His  manner  toward  Ned  is  changed,  and  Ned 
feels  it.' 

Again  Harson  walked  on  in  silence  ;  at  last,  stopping  in 
front  of  the  house  where  she  lived,  he  said :  *  This  is  all  very 
strange,  Kate ;  but  depend  on  me  —  I  '11  fathom  it  yet.  Let 
me  take  my  own  way  about  it,  and  we  '11  see  what  's~  to  be 
done ;  but  I  must  not  act  hastily.  I  'm  glad  you  spoke  to 
me.  Here's  your  home;  good  night.  Keep  your  own 
counsel,  Kate.  God  bless  you  ! ' 

Kate  paused  upon  the  threshold,  watching  his  retiring 
figure  until  he  crossed  the  street,  and  was  hid  by  the  black 
shadow  of  the  opposite  buildings. 

As  he  disappeared,  Kate's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  '  There 
he  goes,  my  best,  my  only  friend  !  If  he  fail,  God  help  me ! ' 
said  she,  clasping  her  hands,  and  pressing  them  convulsively 
to  her  bosom.  *  Good,  kind,  warm-hearted  old  Harry  Har« 
son  I  God  bless  vou,  indeed ! ' 


48  HARRY   HARSON. 

'  Have  n't  you  a  kind  word  for  me,  too,  Kate  ? '  said  a  per 
son  who  had  come  up,  while  she  was  gazing  in  the  opposite 
direction.  '  I  Ve  been  waiting  this  half  hour  for  you  and 
Harson  to  get  through  your  conversation.  Have  n't  you  a 
*  Good  night,  Ned,'  for  me  ?  Come  Kate,'  said  he,  taking 
her  hand,  and  pressing  it  kindly,  'say,  'Good  night, 
Ned!" 

'Good  night,  Ned,'  said  she,  repeating  the  words,  with  a 
faint  smile. 

'  Can  you  tell  me  nothing  more,  Kate  ? '  said  he,  still  lin 
gering,  and  holding  her  hand. 

The  girl  shook  her  head,  for  her  heart  was  too  full  to  speak. 

*  Well,  Kate,  I  '11  not  keep  you  in  the  cold ;  good  night ! 
God  bless  you !  Brighter  days  will  come  yet,  never  fear.' 
He  shook  her  hand  again,  and  went  off,  not  however  without 
looking  back,  and  waving  his  hand  several  times,  before  he 
was  out  of  sight. 

Kate  stood  there  long  after  he  was  gone  ;  and  then,  turn 
ing  slowly,  went  into  the  house.  She  paused  at  the  door  of 
an  inner  room,  which  was  partly  open,  and  looked  in,  without 
entering.  It  was  a  small,  confined  room  ;  lighted  only  by  a 
single  candle,  which  flared  wildly  in  the  wind,  caused  by  the 
open  door ;  shedding  an  unsteady,  nickering  light.  Mean, 
in  every  respect,  the  room  was  ;  without  carpet,  with  a  wood 
en  table,  a  large  wooden  chest,  plentifully  studded  with  brass 
nails,  and  secured  by  a  padlock,  large  enough  for  a  custom 
house  store,  and  a  few  wooden  chairs.  In  one  of  these  sat 
Jacob  Rhoneland.  He  had  a  noble  head ;  with  white,  sil 
very  locks,  and  a  broad,  high  forehead ;  ruddy  cheeks,  and 
eyes  that  flashed  and  sparkled,  in  defiance  of  age.  A  coat 
of  rusty  brown,  much  too  large  for  his  person,  faded,  darned, 
and  patched,  with  huge  pockets,  hanging  open  and  reaching 


HARRY    HARSON.  49 

to  his  heels;  pantaloons  of  the  same  material,  and  heavy 
shoes,  completed  his  attire.  He  was  sitting  in  front  of  the 
fire,  his  knees  crossed,  and  his  arms  around  them,  rocking  to 
and  fro,  and  talking  to  himself: 

'  Does  old  age  bring  fancies  with  it  such  as  these  ? '  mut 
tered  he.  '  Does  the  grave  fling  its  shadows  into  the  land 
of  life  ?  Is  there  any  thing  here,  here]  said  he,  pressing 
his  hand  against  his  breast,  '  that  gold  wo'n't  quiet  1  Ha  ! 
ha !  look  at  that  smoke  as  it  dances  up  the  chimney ! 
It 's  but  air,  and  yet  I  saw  faces  in  it.  How  they  leered  at 
me,  and  grinned  !  What  eyes  they  had !  Michael  Rust's 
eyes !  How  they  whispered,  and  giggled,  as  they  whirled 
up  the  chimney  ?  Who 's  there  ? '  exclaimed  he,  starting  to  his 
feet,  as  the  door  creaked  at  the  touch  of  the  girl,  who  was 
entering.  'What,  Kate!  eaves-dropping?  Did  you  hope 
to  overhear  much  ?  Did  you  hope  to  find  the  road  to  hap 
piness  by  playing  spy  on  an  old  man !  Did  you  want  to 
fcarn  the  secrets  of  your  father,  to  hold  them  like  a  lash 
over  his  head  ?  I  say,  Kate,  have  you  been  listening  ? ' 

*  I  have,  father,'  replied  the  girl,  laying  her  hand  upon  his 
arm.     *  I  have  been  listening ;  and  I  have  heard  enough  to 
let  me  know  that  you  are  far  from  happy.     Oh,  father !  why 
will  you  not  cast  from  you  those  dark  thoughts  and  dreams, 
and,  above  all,  avoid  those  who  bring  them  ? ' 

The  old  man  looked  anxiously  in  her  face,  and  moved 
restlessly  ;  but  he  did  not  turn  from  her. 

*  I  speak  of  that  man  who  has  been  here  so  often  of  late ; ' 
continued  she,  '  he  with  the  dark  hair,  and  an  eye  that  never 
meets  yours.' 

*  You   mean   Rust,   Michael    Rust ;    do  n't   offend   him, 
Kate!'   said   the   old   man,   earnestly,    and   speaking   fast. 
4 1  tell  you,  Kate,  that  man,  miserable  as  he  seems,  has  me 
in  his  power.     Do  you  hear  that,  girl  ?  and  can,  if  he  will, 
crush  me  body  and  soul ;   but  trust  me,  my  own  dear  child, 

3 


50  HARRY    H ARSON. 

when  I  tell  you,  that  although  I  cannot  control  the  power 
he  has  over  me,  and  although  he  can  make  these  old  cheeks 
tingle,  yet  Jacob  Rhoneland,  were  the  truth  known,  could 
look  his  fellow-man  in  the  face  without  fear/ 

*  I  believe  it,  father,  I  know  it ; '  exclaimed  the  girl  ear 
nestly.    '  But,'  asked  she,  '  why  does  he  come  here  so  often  ? 
he  does  not  seem  to  have  any  object.' 

The  old  man  drew  her  to  him  and  looked  into  her  eyes ; 
but  he  saw  nothing  but  an  expression  of  undisguised  anxiety 
on  his  own  account.  At  last  he  said : 

*  You  're  a  mere  child  in  the  ways  of  the  world,  my  poor 
little  Kate ;  I  cannot  tell  you  more  now.     Why  should  I 
lay  a  heavy  load  upon  your  young  heart  ? ' 

'  Oh,  father,'  exclaimed  the  girl,  '  if  you  did  but  know  how 
willingly  I  would  bear  it,  you  would  not  hesitate.  I  am  a 
poor,  feeble-minded  girl,  not  fit  to  advise  or  counsel  you ; 
but  listen  to  me,  dear  father  —  will  you  ? ' 

1  Yes,  Kate,  yes,'  said  the  old  man,  taking  her  hand.  '  I  '11 
always  listen  to  you,  for  you  always  mean  well ;  I  know 
that,  and  I  like  to  hear  the  sound  of  your  voice.  I  've  heard 
it  so  long,  Kate,  that  I  should  feel  sad  to  lose  it  now  —  very 
sad,  Kate.' 

'  God  grant  that  you  never  may ! '  said  the  girl.  '  God 
grant  that  I  may  not  die  and  leave  you  here  with  none  to 
care  for  you.' 

'Die,  Kate,  die  !'  exclaimed  Rhoneland,  starting  back  and 
running  his  eye  over  her  form,  as  if  in  search  of  some  latent 
symptom  of  disease ;  '  Oh !  no,  no !  do  n't  talk  of  that  — 
do  n't  talk  of  that.  That  would  be  sad,  indeed ;  but  that 's 
folly,  mere  folly.  What  were  you  going  to  say  ? ' 

'  I  wanted  to  ask,'  said  she,  in  a  hesitating  voice,  '  if  there 
be  no  way  of  breaking  off  our  intercourse  with  that  man  Rust. 
Father,  you  are  never  well  after  he  is  gone.  Sometimes  fox 


HARRY    H ARSON.  51 

days  afterward  you  are  not  yourself.  There  's  something 
,in  your  connection  with  him  that  is  tugging  away  at  your 
heart.  I  know  there  is.  Break  with  him  at  once !  Do,  do 
for  my  sake  ! * 

The  old  man  grasped  her  hands  in  his,  which  shook  vio 
lently  ;  while  his  eyes  glanced  round  the  room,  with  a  start 
led,  suspicious  look.  '  Hush  !  Kate,'  said  he,  in  a  whisper, 
*  do  n't  speak  of  that ;  do  n't  speak  of  it,  or  even  think  of  it. 
Be  civil  to  him,  Kate.  Come  what  may,  Kate,  do  n't  be 

rude ;  you  must  not ;  and  I  Never  mind  ;  there, 

Kate,  go,  go ;  not  a  word  more.' 

As  he  spoke,  he  gently  pushed  her  from  him ;  and  once 
more  turning  to  the  fire,  took  his  seat,  and  watched  the 
smoke  as  it  eddied  up  the  gaping  chimney,  occasionally  cast 
ing  a  glance  at  his  daughter,  to  see  that  she  was  not  studying 
his  features.  And  thus  they  sat,  until  a  neighboring  clock 
tolled  the  hour  of  midnight ;  when  the  old  man  started  up 
and  said : 

'  Kate,  you  're  growing  pale.  Go  to  bed,  my  child ;  go  to 
bed.  It  will  never  do  for  your  cheeks  to  grow  thin  and 
white.' 

The  girl  rose ;  and  the  old  man  kissing  her  cheek,  bade 
her  good-night,  and  also  retired  to  his  own  room. 


52  HARRY    H ARSON. 


CHAPTER    V. 

IN  the  neighborhood  of  Wall-street,  in  that  part  of  the 
city  where  the  hum  of  the  moving  crowd  is  greatest,  and 
the  tramp  of  hurrying  feet  is  unbroken,  stood  a  high,  narrow 
house,  between  two  others,  as  tall  and  narrow  as  itself,  with 
windows  crowded  into  every  part  of  it,  for  the  purpose  of 
admitting  light  into  numberless  small  rooms,  which  filled  its 
interior.  The  color  of  this  house  had  once  been  bright  red ; 
but  the  dust  had  settled  in  its  gutters,  through  which,  they 
being  leaky  and  out  of  repair,  the  rain  had  trickled  in  tears 
of  mud  down  its  ruddy  front ;  so  that,  although  the  house 
was  yet  in  its  teens,  it  had  the  dusty  look  of  ripe  age. 
From  top  to  bottom,  it  was  occupied.  Its  vaults  were  filled 
with  condiments  of  various  kinds,  belonging  to  the  keeper 
of  a  refectory,  who  tenanted  its  basement ;  on  the  first  floor 
a  tailor  flaunted  his  sign-board;  and  thence  heavenward, 
cramped,  dusty  rooms,  begrimed  with  dirt  and  cobwebs,  and 
otherwise  dark  and  dingy,  with  dim  entries,  and  steep  stair 
cases,  and  doors  with  tin  sigps  nailed  on  them,  indicated  that 
lawyers  made  it  their  haunt.  By  lawyers  of  every  class 
was  it  tenanted ;  by  veterans,  run  down  by  clients  :  by 
those  newly  launched,  as  yet  run  down  only  by  tailors  and 
other  duns,  and  whose  offices  were  usually  locked,  with  a 
notice  on  the  door,  reading  thus :  '  Gone  to  the  Hall,'  or, 
*  Gone  to  Court ;'  being  professional  terms,  used  by  neophytes 
of  the  bar,  when  going,  for  an  indefinite  period,  to  some 
equally  indefinite  place.  In  the  upper  rooms,  the  desperadoes 
of  the  profession  made  their  roost ;  men  who  locked  their 


HARRY    HARSON.  53 

doors  against  all  clients  ;  smoked  incessantly  ;  talked  loudly ; 
fought,  quarrelled,  played  cards,  and  offered  to  bet  dollars  by 
never  less  than  the  thousand,  thereby  showing  that  they  were 
rich;  sung -boisterous  songs,  and  danced  hornpipes  and 
other  fanciful  performances  over  the  heads  of  '  the  lower 
floors  ;'  whose  offices  were  redolent  with  tobacco  and  brandy, 
and  had  an  atmosphere  resembling  a  bottled  fog ;  -who  went 
in  and  out  in  squads,  taking  the  key  in  their  pockets,  and 
affixing  notices  for  nobody ;  passing  through  the  entry  like  a 
drove  of  horses,  and  leaving  the  world  at  large  in  profound 
ignorance  as  to  their  whereabouts  and  occupation. 

Such  were  the  tenants  of  this  building ;  but  amid  them 
was  a  single  office  on  the  second  floor,  whose  inhabitant  dif 
fered  from  all  the  rest.  On  the  door  was  the  simple  name, 
MICHAEL  RUST  ;  no  intimation  of  his  profession.  None 
knew  him,  nor  what  he  did,  nor  who  he  was,  nor  where  he 
went,  nor  whence  he  came.  Sometimes  for  weeks  the  office 
door  was  locked,  and  none  entered  it.  Then  a  single  man  came, 
unlocked  the  door,  took  out  the  key,  and  locking  it  on  the 
inside,  shut  himself  in ;  remained  there  sometimes  ten  or 
twelve  hours,  and  then  went  out,  locked  the  door,  put  the 
key  in  his  pocket,  and  was  absent  again,  sometimes  for  a 
day,  or  a  week,  or  a  month  :  even  John  Smith,  the  black 
man  in  the  garret,  who  kindled  the  fires,  and  with  a  broom 
smeared  the  dust  over  the  carpets  of  the  rooms,  and  called 
it  sweeping,  whereby  he  gained  a  dollar  a  month,  even  he 
got  nothing  at  his  hands.  His  room  was  usually  locked  ; 
and  when  John  once  accidentally  got  in  and  found  the  owner 
there,  he  was  invited  to  retire,  and  not  call  again.  The  very 
mystery  of  the  man  created  quite  an  excitement  among  the 
'desperadoes,'  one  of  whom,  happening  to  meet  him  on  the 
stairs,  determined  to  worm  his  way  into  his  acquaintance, 


54  HARRY    HARSON 

and,  by  way  of  breaking  the  ice,  remarked  to  him  *  that  it 
was  a  very  fine  day.' 

'Who  said  it  wasn't?  I'm  sure  /  did  n't,  did  I  ?'  de 
manded  Michael  Rust,  stopping  short,  and  fixing  his  coal-black 
eye  on  the  face  of  the  startled  speaker,  who,  not  a  little 
abashed,  replied  :  'Oh,  no  !  certainly  not.' 

'  Very  well,'  said  the  other ;  *  then  go  to  those  who  deny 
it,  and  tell  it  to  them.1 

Saying  which,  he  turned  on  his  heel,  and  deliberately  de 
scended  the  stairs.  This  brief  dialogue  got  noised  about,  until 
it  reached  the  ears  of  others  of  the  'desperadoes,'  who,  incensed 
that  any  man  should  presume  to  keep  his  own  concerns  to 
himself,  forthwith  beset  him  in  his  office.  But  he  was  imper 
turbable.  They  danced  hornpipes  at  his  door,  in  the  most 
frantic  manner;  smoked  there  by  the  hour;  howled,  and 
yelped,  and  hooted,  until  the  hall  leading  to  that  room  was  a 
perfect  pandemonium,  and  several  gray-headed  lawyers  in 
the  neighboring  rooms  were  nearly  demented.  One  of  them 
in  particular,  who  at  the  time  was  drawing  up  a  will  for  a 
blind  man,  became  so  much  bewildered,  that  he  inserted  his 
own  name  instead  of  that  of  the  residuary  legatee  mentioned 
by  the  testator,  whereby  he  acquired  a  large  property ;  never 
having  detected  his  error  until  the  death  of  the  latter,  when  ot 
course  it  was  too  late  to  remedy,  and  therefore  useless  to  men 
tion  it.  But  Michael  Rust  took  no  notice  of  these  annoyances. 
He  seemed  perfectly  indifferent,  or  totally  deaf.  lie  made 
neither  remonstrance  nor  complaint,  but  went  in  and  came 
out  the  same  as  ever ;  remained  there  as  long  as  before ;  and 
seemed  to  suffer  no  inconvenience,  until,  brazen-throated  as 
they  were,  their  voices  grew  husky,  and  they  were  compelled 
to  raise  the  siege,  and  leave  him  unmolested  in  his  mystery. 

He  had  a  single  visitor,  equally  taciturn  with  himself,  and 


HARRY    H ARSON.  55 

equally  imperturbable,  who  came  occasionally,  gave  a  single 
knock  at  the  door,  muttered  a  few  indistinct  words  in  the 
key-hole,  and  was  instantly  admitted.  He  too,  in  his  passages 
to  and  from  the  office,  had  been  way-laid  by  the  desperadoes, 
and  perplexed  by  knotty  and  penetrating  questions.  For 
some  time  he  met  them  with  the  same  reserve  which  cha 
racterized  Michael  Rust ;  but  having  been  one  day  closely 
beset  and  sorely  annoyed  by  a  solitary  desperado  whom  he 
encountered  on  the  stairs,  and  being  a  brawny,  square-built 
fellow,  he  answered  in  so  unexpected  a  manner,  that  his  ques 
tioner,  on  recovering  his  composure,  found  himself  on  the 
bottom  step  of  the  stairs,  somewhat  bruised  in  person,  and 
not  a  little  disfigured  in  countenance.  The  precise  nature  of 
the  reply  never  leaked  out ;  but  from  that  hour  the  stranger 
passed  to  and  fro  free  of  question. 

On  the  evening  of  Christmas  night,  Michael  Rust  sat  in 
his  office,  wrapped  in  a  blue  camblet  cloak,  a  red  silk  hand 
kerchief  bound  round  his  head,  and  an  old  hat  on  the  top 
of  that,  pressed  down  so  far,  that  his  shaggy  brows  and 
twinkling  black  eyes  could  scarcely  be  seen  beneath  the 
level  of  its  brim.  He  was  not  yet  fifty,  but  his  face  was 
thin  and  wrinkled,  his  eye  glowing,  and  his  complexion 
sallow,  though  not  sickly ;  and  there  was  a  dark,  sinister 
look  about  him,  not  at  all  diminished  by  his  shaggy,  black 
brows,  and  the  gipsy-like  hair,  which  here  and  there 
stole  from  beneath  his  strange  head-gear.  In  his  office 
was  a  single  table  covered  with  green  baize ;  an  ink-stand, 
pen,  and  wafers,  and  two  chairs.  These  constituted  all  its 
furniture ;  and  on  one  of  these  chairs,  and  at  this  table,  sat 
Michael  Rust,  engaged  in  writing.  There  was  no  fire  in  the 
grate ;  and  as  the  dim  light  of  the  single  candle  flickered 
through  the  room,  a  more  dismal  place  could  scarcely  have 
been  found. 

Scratch,  scratch  went  Rust's  pen,  down  one  page  and  over 


56  HARRY    H ARSON. 

to  the  next,  and  down  that.  He  was  a  slow,  deliberate, 
untiring  writer;  and  his  pen  was  a  stubborn,  obstinate 
stump,  which  seemed  to  have  an  eternity  of  endurance  about 
it.  Occasionally  he  varied  his  occupation,  by  putting  the 
stump  in  his  mouth ;  drawing  the  candle  close  to  him, 
and  poring  over  the  paper.  Having  at  last  concluded 
his  writing,  he  folded  it  up,  and  placed  it  under  the  ink 
stand,  and  muttering  something  to  himself,  leaned  back  in 
his  chair.  *  Hallo  ! '  said  he,  in  reply  to  a  knock  at  the  door, 
which  brought  the  chair  rapidly  forward,  and  him  to  his  feet ; 
'who  's  there?' 

'  I  am ! '  responded  a  gruff  voice,  from  the«putside ;  *  I  and 
somebody  else.7 

'  Oh !  very  well,'  answered  Mr.  Rust,  without  moving 
'  you  can  come  in ;  but  *  somebody  else'  must  go  about  hi? 
business.  This  is  n't  his  office,  and  he  's  no  acquaintance 
of  mine.' 

'  But  he  must  come  in,'  returned  the  voice  from  without. 

'  He  must,  must  he  ? '  replied  Mr.  Rust ;  *  well,  let  him  ;' 
and  saying  this,  he  seated  himself,  and  drawing  from  a  port 
folio,  which  he  took  from  a  drawer  in  the  table,  a  small  slip 
of  paper,  renewed  his  writing,  without  paying  the  slightest 
regard  to  the  person  in  the  passage,  whose  knocking  now 
became  extremely  violent.  Rust  however  had  received  too 
much  treatment  of  that  kind  at  the  hands  of  '  the  despera 
does,'  to  be  put  down  by  what  could  emanate  from  a  single 
individual ;  and  with  his  mouth  pursed  up  to  a  point,  and 
his  sharp  black  eyes  intent  on  his  paper,  he  wrote  on,  as 
unconcernedly  as  if  there  were  no  one  within  a  mile.  A  foot 
was  soon  called  to  the  assistance  of  the  knuckles ;  and  these 
being  unsuccessful,  the  visitor  demanded  a  parley : 

4  Can  n't  I  exchange  a  word  with  you,  Mr.  Rust  ? '  he  asked, 
with  more  deference  than  he  had  hitherto  used. 


HARRY    H ARSON.  57 

*  Of.  course  you  can,'  replied  Rust,  with  great  suavity,  but 
without   discontinuing   his  writing ;    *  of  course  you  can ; 
always  happy  to  exchange  civilities  with  my  friends.    Go  on/ 

*  I  ca  n't  speak  with  a  door  between  us,'  replied  his  visitor, 
angrily. 

'  Bless  my  soul !  ca  n't  you  ? '  replied  Rust.  '  Well,  there 's 
the  key-hole ;  speak  through  that ;  the  slide  's  down ;  but 
that  does  n't  matter :  I  'am  very  quick  of  hearing.  Go  on. 
I  'm  quite  impatient.' 

Here  Mr.  Rust  chuckled  to  himself;  and  laying  down  his 
pen,  rubbed  his  hands  cheerfully  together,  after  which  he 
resumed  writing.  A  muttered  exclamation  escaped  the  man 
on  the  outside ;  but  apparently  he  saw  no  alternative  save 
the  dismissal  of  his  companion ;  and  perhaps  he  knew  not  a 
little  of  the  uncompromising  character  of  the  man  with 
whom  he  had  to  deal.  So  he  yielded  the  point,  and  spoke 
in  an  under  tone  to  the  person  with  him,  who  slowly  de 
scended  the  stairs  and  went  out  of  the  building,  shutting  the 
door  heavily  after  him. 

When  the  noise  caused  by  his  departure  had  ceased  to 
echo  through  the  still  house,  Rust  arose,  and  taking  the  light 
in  his  hand,  opened  the  door,  and  looked  down  the  passage, 
then  drew  the  stranger  in  the  room  and  turned  the  key. 

'  What 's  the  meaning  of  this,  blast  ye ! '  exclaimed  he, 
every  trace  of  merriment  vanishing  from  his  face ;  his  black 
eye  flashing,  and  his  lips  working  with  anger ;  '  what 's  the 
meaning  of  this,  I  say  ?  Who  was  that  ?  Why  did  you 
bring  him  ?  Answer  me !  Have  I  not  forbidden  the  entrance 
of  a  soul  ?  Have  I  not  been  beset,  from  the  day  that  I  first 
came  to  this  house,  by  those  wishing  to  penetrate  my  secrecy  ? 
Has  not  this  room  been  made  a  very  hell  on  earth  by  those 
who  would  force  themselves  into  my  acquaintance  ?  Ha !  ha  1 
they  would  know  Michael  Rust !  They  would  know  him, 
3* 


58  HARRY    HARSON. 

would  they  ?  Few  care  to  do  that,  do  they,  good  Enoch  ? 
None  love  him,  but  good  Enoch  Grosket ;  but  he  loves  him, 
does  n't  he?  He  hates  to  see  Michael  alone,  and  solitary,  and 
ae  brings  a  friend  to  keep  him  company,  and  make  him 
merry.  Hark  ye,  sir ! '  exclaimed  he,  suddenly  changing  his 
ione ;  *  I  know  not  why  you  brought  that  man  here,  whether 
us  an  eaves-dropper  or  as  witness  to  conversations  which  it 
might  suit  you  to  have  remembered  and  me  to  have  forgotten, 
or  merely  as  a  casual  friend ;  or  because  you  thought  that 
ae  might  suit  my  purpose ;  but  this  let  me  tell  you,  you  '11  be 
a  bold  man  if  you  venture  it  again.' 

It  was  not  a  pleasant  thing  to  have  two  such  eyes  flashing 
in  one's  very  face ;  and  to  have  a  voice,  husky  with  passion, 
hissing  in  one's  ear ;  but  Mr.  Grosket  seemed  scarcely  to  listen 
to  him;  for,  without  reply,  he  walked  to  the  table,  and 
throwing  off  the  cloak  which  was  wrapped  about  him,  drew 
from  his  pocket  a  bundle  of  papers,  and  proceeded  leisurely 
to  untie  them. 

Rust  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  watching  him  with 
a  keen,  anxious  eye,  for  there  was  much  in  his  face  to  perplex 
him.  Its  peculiar  characteristics  were  sternness  and  reso 
lution,  not  unmixed  with  honesty ;  perhaps  a  certain  blunt- 
ness  of  manner  might  have  added  something  to  this  last 
expression,  for  many  who  lack  the  former  adopt  the  latter 
as  a  substitute;  and  although  spurious,  it  is  much  more 
convenient,  and  passes  nearly  as  current.  At  last  Rust 
went  to  the  table,  and  sat  down  opposite  him,  pulling  his 
hat  over  his  eyes ;  with  his  feet  on  the  front  round  of 
the  chair,  and  his  hands  folded  and  resting  on  the  table 
before  him;  his  thin  lips  working  in  and  out,  but  with 
out  speaking.  There  was  a  strong  contrast  between  the 
sharp,  fierce  face  of  Michael  Rust ;  his  thin  frame  and  gaunt, 
wire-like  figure,  and  that  of  the  ponderous,  brawny  fellow 


HARRY    H ARSON.  59 

who  sat  opposite  to  him,  coolly  looking  over  his  papers,  so 
confident  in  his  own  muscular  force  and  indomitable  will, 
that  notwithstanding  the  outburst  of  passion  which  had  just 
escaped  his  associate,  he  did  not  deem  it  worth  while  to 
bestow  even  a  look  at  his  proceedings,  or  to  guard  against 
him. 

'Count  that,'  said  he,  taking  from  his  papers  a  roll  of 
bank-notes,  and  placing  it  in  front  of  Rust.  '  Count  that ; 
there  should  be  five  hundred,  with  interest  for  five  years, 
which  makes  it  six  hundred  and  seventy-five.' 

He  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair  as  he  spoke,  and  fold 
ing  his  arms,  looked  steadily  in  the  face  of  his  companion. 
Michael  did  not  move  a  finger  towards  the  money,  but  said, 
in  a  quick,  hurried  manner :  *  How  now,  Enoch ;  what's  this  ? ' 

'  Count  it  first,'  replied  the  man,  sternly ;  '  then  I'll  answer 
your  questions.  Not  a  word,'  said  he,  raising  his  finger, 
seeing  that  Rust  was  preparing  to  interrupt  him;  'don't 
speak.  [  '11  not  answer  till  you  Ve  counted  that.' 

Michael  paused  a  moment,  with  his  sharp  black  eyes 
twinkling  and  flashing,  and  then  wetting  the  end  of  his  fore 
finger,  proceeded  to  count  the  bills. 

*  Six  hundred  and  seventy-five,'  said  he,  as  he  finished. 

'All  right,'  said  Grosket.  'Now,'  added  he,  placing  in 
front  of  him  a  paper,  '  sign  that.' 

Rust  took  the  paper  and  read  it  from  beginning  to  end : 
and  then  pushing  the  money  back,  said  to  Enoch  :  *  This  is 
a  receipt  for  five  hundred  dollars,  loaned  to  you  to  pay  off  a 
judgment  against  you,  in  favor  of  John  Collins,  with  interest 
to  date.  Poh !  Enoch ;  I  do  n't  want  the  money,  and  you 
do.  Return  it  some  other  time — some  other  time  ;  a  year 
hence,  or  two  years  —  or  at  any  time.' 

Til  pay  it  now?  replied  Grosket,  coldly.  'Sign  that 
receipt,  will  you  ? ' 


60  HARRY    H ARSON. 

1  Well,  well,  Enoch,  if  you  insist  on  it,  I  will,'  said  Rust, 
taking  up  his  pen,  and  dipping  it  in  the  ink,  and  signing  his 
name  to  the  receipt.  '  There,'  said  he,  pushing  the  paper  tc 
him.  '  I  'in  glad  you  're  able  to  pay  it ;  indeed  I  am,  for 
your  sake.' 

A  strange  smile  curled  the  lip  of  the  other,  as  he  folded 
up  the  paper  and  put  it  in  his  pocket.  *  Now,  Michael  Rust, 
said  he,  in  a  stern  voice,  *  you  and  I  separate.  Five  years 
ago,  when  I  was  in  want,  on  the  very  verge  of  ruin ;  when 
there  was  nothing  before  me  but  starvation,  to  my  wife  and 
child  ;  you  stepped  in  between  me  and  my  creditors,  loaned 
me  this  money,  and  kept  them  at  bay  until  I  could  get  along.' 

*  Do  n't  speak  of  that,'  said  Rust ;  *  forget  it,  Enoch ;  I  had 
almost,  I  assure  you.     I ' 

'  Do  n't  interrupt  me,'  said  Grosket,  striking  his  fist  on  the 
table ;  '  hear  me  out.  At  that  time,  I  would  have  died  for 
you.  There  was  nothing  that  I  would  not  have  done  for 
you.' 

'  You  were  always  grateful,  Enoch  —  always.     Well.' 

*  Well,'  said  the  man,  speaking  slowly,  and  in  a  tone  which, 
though  low,  was  so  distinct  that  even  when  it  sank  to  a 
whisper,  which  it  did  at  times,  it  was  perfectly  audible.     '  I 
did  serve  you.     Deeds,  which  have  caused  my  cheeks  to 
tingle  with  shame,  deeds  which  have  made  me  loathe  myself, 
and  hate  him  who  could  take  advantage  of  the  best  feelings 
of  a  grateful  heart  to  prostitute  them  to  his  own  evil  pur 
poses,  have  I  done  for  you.    I  have  followed  you  in  a  course 
of  crime ;  never  swerving,  nor  shrinking  back.     Whatever 
my  heart  might  have  felt,  my  actions  never  faltered.     If  at 
times  a  feeling  of  misgiving  came  over  me,  I  thought  of  my 
wife  and  daughter,  and  of  what  they  would  have  been  but 
for  you,  and  I  went  on.' 

4  Well  ? '  said  Rust,  impatiently,  '  well  ? ' 


HARRY    HARSON.  61 

1  When  I  first  met  you,'  continued  Grosket,  '  that  daughter 
was  a  mere  child,  but  in  five  years  she  became  a  woman ; 
and  with  all  a  woman's  warm  confidence  of  heart,  those 
whom  she  loved  she  loved  well.' 

4  Well,  and  she  married,'  interrupted  Rust.  '  I  know  all 
that.' 

'Ay  !  she  did  marry ! '  said  Grosket,  setting  his  teeth,  and 
speaking  in  a  low,  fierce  tone ;  '  she  DID  marry,  but  not  the 
man  she  loved.  JOM,  for  your  own  evil  purposes,  and  with 
a  falseness  which  I  have  since  detected,  blackened  his  cha 
racter  ;  persuaded  me,  your  blind  tool,  into  the  belief  that  he 
was  a  scoundrel.  I  forbade  him  the  house ;  and  at  your 
instigation,  compelled  the  girl  into  a  marriage  which  she 
abhorred ;  I  —  I,  her  father,  forced  her,  with  a  loathing 
heart,  to  the  bed  of  a  man  whom  she  hated  !  God !  was  n't 
that  a  noble  act  for  a  parent?'  exclaimed  he,  shaking  his 
hand  at  Rust.  *  Well,'  continued  he,  '  what  came  of  it  ?  It 
turned  out  as  might  have  been  expected ;  she  had  broken 
her  vows  to  the  man  she  loved ;  she  forgot  her  faith  to  the 
man  whom  she  hated.  She  died ;  and  then  it  was  better 
that  she  should.  My  wife  followed  her,  Michael  Rust;  but 
I  was  a  strong,  iron-hearted  man.  It  did  not  kill  me.  I  was 
left ;  left,  still  bound  to  you,  ay,  fettered,  hand  and  foot,  in 
chains  like  iron ;  for  I  knew  that  the  moment  I  broke  with 
you,  would  seal  my  ruin.  I  was  reckless,  Michael ;  I  was 
desperate ;  but  I  was  cool.  I  could  even  play  the  hypocrite, 
and  pretend  to  lend  myself  to  your  plans ;  but  there  came  a 
limit  at  last.  When  you  commenced  your  designs  on  that 
young  girl,  Katharine  Rhoneland ;  young,  innocent  as  my 
own  child  once  was,  then  I  resolved  to  shake  you  off.  I 
have  found  the  means.  I  have  done  so ;  and  now,  Michael 
Rust,  I  am  your  enemy;  one  who  will  thwart  you,  though 


62  HARRY    EARS  ON. 

it  cost  him  his  life.  When  a  man  has  lost  all  in  the  world 
except  life,  he  cares  little  how  soon  that  goes  too.' 

Rust  sat  opposite  to  him,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  his  face, 
and  his  thin  lips  pressed  together ;  but  he  suffered  nothing 
to  escape  him,  until  Enoch  had  finished ;  and  then  he  said 
in  his  quiet,  sneering  tone  : 

'  Good  Enoch  is  excited ;  but  he  is  candid,  and  tells  his 
story  straight  and  strong.  There  is  no  glossing  over  his 
words ;  no  prevarication.  His  tender  heart  warms  toward  a 
yo^ng  girl,  only  because  she  resembles  his  daughter ;  only 
for  that  reason  —  only  for  that  reason  !  He  has  no  other 
reason.  He's  very  kind,  good  Enoch  is ;  very  kind ;  and 
nrw,'  said  he,  in  even  a  smoother  voice  than  he  had  hitherto 
spoken,  *  there  is  the  door.  Good  Enoch  will  please  to  walk 
OMt  of  it.  Michael  Rust  does  not  like  enemies  in  his  room. 
He  prefers  being  alone.  There 's  the  door,  good  Enoch ;  go, 
do  go ! ' 

The  other  rose,  and  stood  opposite  him;  and  to  judge 
from  his  fierce  eye  and  quivering  lip,  Michael  Rust  ran  no 
small  risk  at  that  moment ;  but  he  never  quailed.  Upright, 
front  to  front  and  eye  to  eye,  he  stood  before  the  man  whom 
he  had  so  deeply  wronged.  There  was  indeed  a  momentary 
but  powerful  struggle  in  the  breast  of  Enoch ;  but  it  might 
have  been  the  basilisk  eye  of  the  man  to  whom  ho  had  so 
long  surrendered  his  free-will,  fixed  on  his  own,  or  a  secret 
dread  of  the  stern,  unbending  spirit  which  animated  the 
feeble  frame  before  him,  which  had  its  influence ;  for  he 
gradually  mastered  his  feelings,  and  turning  to  the  door, 
said :  '  I  know  how  we  stand  now,  Michael  Rust.  The  worst 
hate  which  a  man  feels,  is  hate  toward  one  whom  he  has 
wronged.  /  know  that,  Michael.  Now  do  you  recollect 
this :  There 's  no  enemy  so  much  to  be  dreaded  as  a  des- 


HARRY    HARSON.  63 

perate  man.  You  were  wise  in  wishing  no  witness  to  our 
conversation.'  Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  turned  on  his 
heel  and  left  the  house. 

1  So  you  Ve  bolted  ! '  said  Mr.  Rust,  standing  with  folded 
arms  in  front  of  the  table,  and  apparently  apostrophizing  the 
candlestick,  for  on  it  his  gaze  was  fastened.  '  You,  who 
could  fawn,  and  grub,  and  lick  the  very  dust  from  my  feet : 
conscientious  Enoch  !  What  is  conscience  ? '  muttered  he ; 
'what  is  that  strange  whispering  demon,  that  sometimes 
starts  up  in  the  breast,  and  holds  up  all  our  past  misdeeds 
to  view,  shaking  them  over  our  heads  until  the  cheek  grows 
pale  and  the  heart  sinks  ?  I've  heard  of  it ;  I've  heard  of  it. 
Enoch  knows  it !  FOOL  ! '  exclamed  he,  '  FOOL  !  he  thinks 
to  fling  me  off!  He  knows  not  that  I  have  a  hold  on  his 
heart,  and  with  a  single  gripe  can  crack  its  life-strings. 
FOOL  !  he  must  bend,  or  I  '11  crush  him ;  but  not  now. 
He  's  fairly  hooked,  and  I  can  afford  to  let  him  play,  before 
I  drown  him ! ' 


CHAPTER    VI. 

WITH  his  head  full  of  his  schemes,  Michael  Rust  extin 
guished  the  solitary  candle,  went  out,  shut  the  door,  forgetting 
to  lock  it  and  put  the  key  in  his  pocket,  sought  a  small  room 
in  an  out-of-the-way  part  of  the  city,  where  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  roosting;  and  flinging  himself  on  a  bed  which 
occupied  a  corner  of  it,  tossed,  and  dreamed,  and  started  till 
day-break. 

On  visiting  his  office  at  an  early  hour,  he  was  not  a 
little  surprised  to  find  the  door  unlocked,  and  the  room 
occupied  by  a  person,  who,  after  an  attentive  and  careful 
conning  over  of  all  the  strange  characters  which  lay  hid 
in  out-of-the-way  .corners  of  his  memory,  he  was  fully  con 
vinced  had  never  before  crossed  his  path.  He  was  a  queer- 
looking  fellow,  clad  in  a  suit  of  rusty  black,  here  and  there 
faded  into  a  dusky  red,  and  variegated  with  occasional  rents, 
through  some  of  which  might  be  caught  glimpses  of  a  dingy 
white  under-garment,  while  through  another,  a  small  end  ol 
the  same  vestment  hung  pendant,  like  a  pocket-handkerchief. 
A  bell-crowned  hat,  dusty,  faded  and  storm-worn,  roofed  an 
odd-looking  face,  apparently  set  in  a  frame  of  uncombed 
locks,  and  garnished  with  a  black  beard  of  several  days' 
growth,  so  stiff  and  stubborn  that  a  hedge-hog  might  have 
envied  it. 

It  was  the  employment  of  the  man,  as  much  as  his  appear 
ance,  which  surprised  Michael  Rust ;  for  there,  in  the  middle 
of  Rust's  own  office,  with  one  foot  on  Rust's  own  chair,  and 
with  Rust's  blacking  and  brush,  kept  for  his  own  special 


HARRY    HARSON.  65 

use,  when  either  inclination  or  policy  required  an  unusual 
degree  of  neatness  in  his  appearance,  stood  this  man,  clean 
ing  his  boots  with  as  much  nonchalance  as  if  he  were  owner 
of  the  room,  and  the  brushes,  blacking,  and  chair  were  his 
own  appurtenances.  On  the  same  chair  with  his  foot  was  a 
large  snuff-box,  from  which  he  from  time  to  time  refreshed 
himself  during  the  progress  of  his  operations. 

He  did  not  observe  Rust,  as  he  came  in;  but  kept  on 
snuffing,  and  rubbing,  and  muttering ;  sometimes  pausing  and 
laughing  to  himself,  and  winking  at  nobody,  and  shaking 
his  head,  and  favoring  his  trowsers  with  a  dab  from  the 
same  brush  with  which  he  was  polishing  his  boot,  whenever 
his  eye  rested  on  a  spot  which  he  thought  would  be  benefited 
by  such  an  operation.  Nor  did  he  cease,  until  Rust  touched 
him  on  the  arm,  and  said,  in  a  peremptory  manner :  '  Hallo ! 
Sir !  who  are  you  ?  and  what  are  you  doing  here  ? ' 

'  Thunder !  man,  how  you  made  me  jump ! '  exclaimed 
the  stranger,  verifying  his  remark,  by  dropping  his  brush 
and  starting  up.  *  When  you  are  going  to  startle  a  man  in 
that  way,  just  let  him  know  beforehand,  will  you  ?  Suppose 
my  nerves  had  been  weak  ?  or  I  had  been  in  a  delicate  way  ? 
or  any  thing  of  that  sort  ?  What  might  have  been  the  con 
sequence  ?  Think  of  that ! ' 

Rust,  in  no  wise  mollified  by  the  peculiar  light  in  which 
the  stranger  viewed  his  interruption,  again  demanded: 
*  What  are  you  doing  here  ? ' 

'Can't  you  see?1  replied  the  other,  pointing  to  his  boot; 
'that 's  what  I  'm  doing.' 

'  Ho  !  ho  ! '  exclaimed  Rust,  his  usual  sneer  playing  around 
his  thin  lips,  '  you  mistook  this  room  for  a  boot-black's  shop, 
did  you  ?  It  looks  like  one ;  very  like  one,  does  n't  it  ?  but 
it  is  n't ;  upon  my  word  it  is  n't.  Now,  Sir,'  said  he,  *  since 
you  have  discovered  your  error,  be  good  enough  to  go ;  or  I 


66  HARRY    H ARSON. 

may  be  obliged  to  do  what  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  do  — 
very  sorry  —  put  you  out.' 

The  stranger  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  or  two,  as  he 
stood  bowing  and  pointing  to  the  door,  with  his  lips  curled 
in  anger  and  derision,  and  then  suddenly  thrusting  his  hand 
in  his  pocket,  and  smirking  and  winking,  he  sidled  up  to 
Rust :  '  Come,  come/  said  he,  *  I  know  what  you  're  at.  1 
take.  There.1  Thrusting  a  sixpence  in  Rust's  hand,  he 
favored  him  with  a  succession  of  sudden  winks  and  shakes 
of  the  head ;  at  the  same  time  indulging  a  kind  of  inward 
laugh.  '  Say  nothing  more,'  said  he ;  'we  understand  each 
other.'  With  this  remark,  he  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  from 
his  box,  picked  up  the  brush,  and  resumed  his  labors. 

Rust  was  puzzled ;  for  his  guest  was  evidently  one  of  those 
impracticable  fellows  who  neither  get  angry  themselves,  nor 
believe  others  when  they  are  so.  Had  he  been  a  little  less 
strongly  built,  he  might  have  been  thrust  out  by  main  force ; 
but  there  was  a  squareness  about  his  shoulders,  indicative  of 
strength ;  his  hands  too  were  large,  and  his  wrists  thick  and 
bony.  So  that  Rust  was  fain  to  moderate  his  tone;  and 
going  to  him,  he  said :  *  Come,  come,  my  good  fellow,  you  'd 
better  go.'  As  he  spoke,  he  placed  his  hand  on  his  back,  as 
if  to  urge  him  toward  the  door. 

'No  I  had  n't  —  no  I  had  n't,'  replied  the  other,  again 
turning  and  winking.  '  Do  n't  be  frightened ;  I  wo'n't  desert 
you  :  never  desert  any  body ;  got  plenty  of  friends  —  never 
desert  any  of  'em.  Catch  me  at  it !  —  would  n't  hurt  their 
feelings  for  the  world.'  lie  shut  his  eyes,  and  laughed 
inwardly  for  more  than  a  minute,  at  the  bare  thought  of  it. 

Rust,  seeing  that  his  guest  had  determined  to  have  his 
own  way,  and  thinking  that  it  might  be  best  to  humor  him, 
took  a  seat,  and  looking  at  him,  said  : 

'Well,  Sir,  since  you  wo'n't  quit  the  room,  perhaps  you'll 
fit  least  tell  me  who  you  are  V 


HARRY   HARSON.  67 

*  To  be  sure  I  will ;  my  name  is  Kornicker ;  Edward 
Kornicker ;  K-O-R-N-I-C-K-E-R,'  replied  the  stranger,  spelling 
it.  'Ah !  I  see,  you  do  n't  want  that  sixpence,'  continued  he, 
pointing  to  tlje  coin  which  Rust  had  placed  on  the  chair. 
4  Well,  if  you  're  proud,  others  ain't ;  that  's  all.'  Saying 
which,  he  quietly  deposited  the  piece  in  his  vest-pocket.  'As 
for  the  matter  of  my  being  in  your  office,  I  do  n't  see  that  it 
is  such  a  wonderful  room,  that  you  need  be  chary  of  it ;  not 
but  what  I  am  as  good,  if  not  better,  than  that  fellow  Gros- 
ket,  whom  I  met  coming  out  of  it  last  night.' 

Such  had  been  the  nature  of  the  conversation  between 
Rust  and  Grosket,  that  even  the  bare  mention  of  his  name 
caused  him  to  start ;  and  scarcely  knowing  that  he  did  so> 
he  went  to  the  door  and  locked  it. 

1  Come,  come,  man  ! '  exclaimed  Kornicker,  not  altogether 
pleased  by  this  equivocal  action,  '  what  are  you  at  ?  I  '11 
stand  no  nonsense.  I  'm  not  frightened,  Sir ;  I  'm  afraid  of 
no  man ;  and  if  you  intend  to  practise  any  of  your  tricks  on 
me,  I  '11  cram  this  brush  down  your  throat.  Yes,  I  will ; 
yes,  I  will.  If  I  do  n't ' 

He  concluded  his  remark  by  a  pantomime,  in  which 
flourishes  of  the  brush,  shakes  of  the  head,  and  winks  at 
Rust,  bore  a  prominent  part.  'I  hope  you  understand,' 
added  he ;  'if  you  do  n't,  and  want  to  come  to  extremities, 
you  '11  find  your  ideas  polished  in  a  way  that  will  astonish 
you ;  let  me  tell  you  that.' 

Saying  this,  he  threw  himself  in  a  defensive  attitude,  with 
the  brush  grasped  in  one  hand,  and  the  fist  of  the  other 
clenched,  as  if  ready  to  fulfil  either  of  his  menaces.  Michael 
Rust  eyed  him  without  any  appearance  of  apprehension ; 
and  then,  crossing  his  hands  behind  him,  walked  up  and 
down  the  room  in  deep  thought ;  coming  in  close  proximity 
to  the  article  which  Kornicker  still  held  up,  but  withoui 
any  attempt  to  enforce  his  threat.  At  last  he  said : 


68  HARRY   H ARSON. 

1  Sit  down ;  I  want  to  talk  with  you.' 

Kornicker,  after  looking  at  him  for  some  time,  and  appa- 
rently  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  he  had  no  ulterior  views 
respecting  himself,  threw  the  brush  on  the  floor,  and  having 
seated  himself,  held  his  snuff-box  in  his  hand,  at  the  same 
time  looking  at  him  to  begin. 

*  So  your  name  is  Kornicker  ? '  said  Rust,  for  the  purpose 
of  opening  the  conversation.     *  It 's  an  odd  name.' 

Kornicker  gave  a  loud  rap  with  the  knuckle  of  his  middle 
finger  on  his  box ;  removed  the  cover ;  took  a  pinch  between 
his  thumb  and  finger,  and  leaning  forward  refreshed  his  nose 
in  a  vociferous  manner ;  after  which  he  said  that  he  had 
heard  others  make  that  same  remark. 

*  You  're  a  lawyer,  I  suppose  ? '  said  Mr.  Rust. 
Mr.  Kornicker  nodded. 

'  Much  to  do  ? '  inquired  Mr.  Rust. 

Kornicker  shook  his  head,  and  said ;  *  Not  much ;  every 
body  's  gone  to  smash ;  and  I  among  the  rest.  It 's  the 
fashion  ;  I  always  follow  the  fashion.' 

'  You  have  an  office  ? '  said  Rust. 

*  Have  I  ? '  said  Mr.  Kornicker,  in  a  tone  of  surprised  in 
quiry.    '  If  I  have,  I  '11  be  glad  if  you  '11  find  it,  for  /  ca  n't. 
When  you  do,  be  good  enough  to  send  me  the  key,  and  the 
number  of  the  house.' 

Rust  rose  abruptly,  and  folding  his  hands  behind  him 
again  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  with  his  brows  bent. 
Indeed,  so  long  did  he  continue  this  exercise,  that  Ko'rnicker, 
who  had  at  first  watched  him,  under  a  vague  apprehension 
that  he  either  might  have  something  to  say  relative  to  the 
office  just  mentioned,  or  might  be  harboring  a  secret  purpose 
to  commit  a  second  assault  upon  him,  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  he  cherished  neither  of  these  intentions,  and  lapsed  into 
a  fit  of  profound  abstraction,  staring  with  eyes  exceedingly 


HARRY   HARSON.  69 

wide  open  into  the  black  grate,  and  apparently  thinking  of 
nothing. 

For  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  at  least,  Michael  Rust  paced  that 
room ;  at  intervals  pausing,  and  scanning  from  head  to  foot 
his  guest,  who  no  longer  noticed  him ;  dwelling  with  a  look 
of  earnest  and  intense  scrutiny  upon  his  face,  and  then  turn 
ing  off",  and  resuming  his  walk,  only  to  pause  at  another 
short  interval,  to  resume  his  investigation  of  Mr.  Kornicker's 
countenance  and  person.  During  that  short  walk,  he  had 
formed  and  was  maturing  a  plan  which  in  any  other  person 
would  have  seemed  strange  indeed,  but  which  was  nothing 
unusual  in  a  man  who  frequently  formed  and  carried  out 
purposes  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and  seemed  to  have  an 
almost  intuitive  knowledge  of  the  character  of  those  who 
fell  under  his  eye. 

The  rupture  between  Grosket  and  himself  had  taken  place 
at  a  most  inauspicious  moment  for  him ;  for  he  had  schemes 
on  foot  in  which  a  tool  was  needed,  who  had  no  eyes,  nor 
ears,  nor  conscience,  except  those  of  his  employer,  and  who 
had  energy  sufficient  to  carry  out  his  purposes,  whatever 
they  might  be.  All  this  Grosket  had  been ;  but  now  that 
all  further  connection  between  them  was  broken  off,  he  knew 
him  too  well  to  suppose  for  an  instant  that  it  would  be 
renewed.  The  recollection  of  the  cause  assigned  by 
Grosket  for  this  step,  and  his  parting  threat,  coupled 
with  the  daring  character  of  the  man,  occasionally  crossed 
Rust's  mind  like  a  dark  shadow;  but  still  he  did  not  shrink 
from  carrying  out  his  schemes,  for  he  thought  that  Grosket 
was  too  deeply  implicated  with  him,  to  dare  to  betray  him. 
Long-cherished  plans  were  not  to  be  relinquished  for  a 
single  threat ;  nor  was  he,  who  had  hitherto  been  his  slave, 
to  rise  up  and  dictate  to  him  what  course  to  pursue.  Rust's 
thin  lips  worried  nervously,  and  his  eye  flashed  at  the 


70  HARRY    HARSON. 

thought ;  as  it  did  so,  it  again  rested  on  Kornicker ;  and  his 
mind  was  made  up  to  secure  him,  to  supply  as  far  as  possible 
the  place  of  Grosket.  It  was  true  that  he  knew  nothing 
bout  him,  and  what  little  he  saw  was  not  in  his  favor ;  but 
e  appeared  to  be  a  thoughtless,  thriftless  fellow,  out  at  the 
elbows ;  probably  poor,  and  one  who  would  snatch  at  any 
opportunity  of  improving  his  condition.  Moreover,  he 
seemed  to  lack  that  energy  which  would  induce  him  to 
resist  his  will.  'As.  to  his  being  a  stranger,'  he  muttered, 
glancing  about  the  room ;  *  or  suppose  him  to  be  dishonest, 
what  then  ?  There  is  nothing  to  steal ;  and  he  will  be  less 
scrupulous  in  doing  what  I  want.  Perhaps  I  can  make  it 
his  interest  to  keep  faith  with  me,  and  if  so,  what  care  I 
though  he  play  rascal  with  all  the  rest  of  the  world  ?  I  need 
not  trust  until  I  've  tried  him.'  Full  of  this  purpose,  he  sat 
down  beside  his  visitor. 

4  Mr.  Kornicker,'  said  he,  in  a  friendly  tone,  *  I  'm  a  plain 
man,  and  will  speak  plainly  what  I  have  to  say.  Should  it 
not  meet  your  views,  you  must  not  take  it  amiss.  It 's  well 
meant.' 

Mr.  Kornicker  made  no  other  reply  than  the  very  inde 
finite  one  of  looking  him  very  full  in  the  face. 

'From  your  appearance,  and  from  what  you  have  just 
said,'  continued  Rust,  *  I  am  led  to  believe  that  times  are  not 
as  well  with  you  as  they  have  been.  Now  I  have  a  proposal 
to  make.  I  want  a  person  to  attend  to  certain  business  of 
mine ;  a  kind  of  agent.  I  think  you  might  suit  me.  Will 
you  accept  the  situation  ?  There  's  the  offer  —  plump.' 

'  Do  I  know  any  thing  about  the  business  ? '  inquired 
Kornicker,  arousing  himself,  and  looking  very  much  in 
earnest. 

4 1  '11  risk  that,'  answered  Rust. 

1  What  are  tke  terms?' 


HARRY   HARSON.  71 

*  Twenty  dollars  a  month,  and  your  meals ;  but  not  lodg 
ing,'  replied  Rust,  laconically. 

'Any  objection  to  my  sleeping  here  ? '  inquired  Kornicker, 
looking  about  the  room.  '  It 's  small,  though.' 

4  None,'  replied  Rust ;  *  but  there  's  no  bed,  and  no  room 
for  one.' 

4  Leave  that  to  me,'  said  Mr.  Kornicker.  4  I  've  experience 
in  that  line.  Now,  then,  as  to  the  other  items.  Where  am 
I  to  dine?' 

*  There  's  a  refectory  in  the  basement  of  this  house.    You 
can  dine  there.' 

*  Good ! '    said  Mr.  Kornicker,  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff. 
*  I  suppose  you  would  n't  object  to  a  friend  or  two  dining 
with  me.' 

'I  would  decidedly,'  replied  Mr.  Rust,  in  a  peremptory 
tone ;  for  he  saw  from  the  manner  of  his  listener  that  he 
could  afford  to  be  strict  in  the  terms. 

*  Say  one,  one  at  long  intervals,'  added  Kornicker,  seeing 
Rust  preparing  to  refuse;   'at  very  long  intervals;   little 
eternities.' 

'  You  must  have  none,'  replied  Rust,  bluntly. 

'  Would  a  small  boy,  sitting  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
table,  merely  to  be  looked  at,  be  open  to  the  same  objection  ? 
I  hate  a  solitary  dinner.  I  'm  gregarious  in  my  habits  and 
feelings.' 

4  Mr.  Kornicker,'  said  Rust,  abruptly,  '  if  you  come  into 
my  service,  you  must  come  on  my  terms,  not  on  yours. 
I  've  made  an  offer ;  accept  or  reject  it,  as  you  please.  I 
sha  n't  vary  it.' 

'  Thunder !  man,  how  hot  you  are ! '  exclaimed  Kornicker ; 
4  well,  a  meal  by  one's  self  is  a  dull  affair ;  but  nevertheless, 
with  wine,  beer,  and  brandy-and-water,  it  may  be  tolerated.' 

4  Stop,'  said  Rust,  in  the  same  peremptory  tone,  *  these  are 


72  HARRY    H ARSON. 

not  in  the  agreement.     Drink  of  all  kinds,  except  water,  I 
do  n't  pay  for.' 

<  Oh !  come  I  that 's  too  much !  I  '11  not  stand  that ! ' 
said  Mr.  Kornicker,  indignantly.  '  You  're  running  you 
pony  too  hard,  my  man.  No  drink,  no  bargain.' 

'  Be  it  so,'  replied  Rust,  rising.  '  Then  our  agreement  is 
at  an  end.  Good  day,  Sir.' 

Kornicker,  however,  did  not  stir;  but  after  looking  at 
Rust  for  a  few  moments,  in  an  irresolute  manner,  said  in  an 
insinuating  tone : 

*  Do  n't    you  think  we   might   compromise   about   the 
drinks?     They  might  be  taken  quite  weak,  and  at  long 
intervals.     It  does  n't  look  respectable  to  dine  without  call 
ing  for  something.' 

One  of  his  usual  sneering  replies  was  rising  to  Rust's  lips ; 
but  he  had  an  end  to  gain;  so  he  checked  himself,  and 
answered  in  a  serious  manner :  *  I  am  afraid,  Mr.  Kornicker, 
from  what  I  see,  that  you  are  too  much  in  this  very  habit  o* 
calling  for  wine ;  and  I  am  too  much  your  friend,  to  aid  you 
in  injuring  yourself.  Therefore  I  must  persist  in  my  refusal.' 

*  Then  I  am  to  understand,'  said  Mr.  Kornicker,  in  a  slow, 
deliberate  voice,  '  that  friends  in  every  variety,  including  9 
small  boy,  and  drinks  of  all  kinds,  excepting  miserable, 
meagre,  undiluted  water,  are  all  prohibited  ?    I  suppose,'  said 
he,  with  a  wo-begone  attempt  at  a  smile,  '  I  may  put  a  littU 
salt  in  it,  to  destroy  its  unpleasant  freshness  ? ' 

'  Oh !  yes,'  replied  Mr.  Rust,  with  a  sneer,  *  or  even  add 
mustard.' 

'  How  is  it  about  snuff  ? '  asked  Kornicker,  abruptly ; 
'  I  must  have  snuff.' 

*  I  '11  supply  you  with  that,'  said  Rust. 

Well,  there  's  a  comfort  in  that.  I  agree  to  the  terms. 
And  now,  Sir,'  said  he,  with  more  energy  than  he  had 
hitherto  shown,  '  what  am  I  to  do  ?' 


HARRY   HARSON  73 

'  You  are  to  stay  here  when  I  am  absent.  If  any  one  calls, 
you  are  to  hear  what  he  has  to  say,  though  you  '11  be  seldom 
troubled  in  that  way.  As  you  're  a  lawyer,  I  may  also  want 
your  services  in  a  professional  way.  In  short,  you  are  to  do 
whatever  I  ask,  without  hesitation  and  without  question.' 

*  The  saving  clause  to  that  contract  is  very  comprehensive/ 
said  Mr.  Kornicker ;  '  but,'  thought  he,  *  if  he  comes  it  over 
me  too  strong,  I  '11  bolt.     Let  him  sue  me  for  a  breach  of 
contract.'     The  idea  of  such  a  step  presented  itself  to  Mr, 
Kornicker's  mind  in  such  a  ludicrous  light,  that  he  laughed 
and  winked  and  shook  his  head,  until  the  tears  fairly  ran 
down  his  cheeks.     After  recovering  from  this  paroxysm,  he 
again  expressed  his  determination  to  accept  the  terms. 

'  Very  well,'  said  Rust ;  *  I  'm  going  out  now,  and  may  not 
return  to-day ;  perhaps  not  for  a  week,  nor  a  month.  You 
must  be  here  every  day,  from  nine  in  the  morning  until 
seven  in  the  evening.  Whenever  I  come,  you  must  be  found 
here.' 

'  Very  well,'  said  Mr.  Kornicker ;  '  I  understand.  You  '11 
not  forget  to  speak  to  the  man  in  the  refectory.  The  contract 
dates  from  now.' 

*  I  '11  stop  as  I  go  out,'  said  Rust. 
'And  the  twenty  dollars  ? ' 

*  Shall  be  forthcoming  at  the  end  of  the  month,'  replied 
Rust.     '  If  I  am  not  here,  the  money  will  come  in  a  letter 
on  the  very  day.' 

( There 's  no  objection  to  my  making  a  fire,  I  suppose  ? ' 
said  Mr.  Kornicker,  pointing  to  the  grate,  which  was  filled 
with  all  the  necessary  materials,  and  required  merely  the 
application  of  a  match  to  ignite  them.  *  Must  be  kept  warm ; 
must  be ;  that 's  part  of  the  contract.' 

*  Make  what  fire  you  please,'  said  Rust,  as  he  was  turning 
to  go.     *  You  '11  find  coal  in  the  vault.' 

4 


14  HARRY    H ARSON. 

1  You  're  quite  certain  we  can't  arrange  our  little  differ 
ences  about  the  trimmings  to  the  dinners,  and  the  friends  ? ' 

'  Quite?  said  Rust,  abruptly ;  and  shutting  the  door,  he 
went  out. 

'A  queer  dog,'  said  Kornicker,  shaking  his  head;  'but 
small  about  the  liquor ;  damned  small !  But  let 's  look  to 
the  fire ;  there 's  nothing  here  to  help  one.  Perhaps  there 
is,  next  door.'  Taking  up  the  candlestick,  and  going  into  a 
neighboring  office,  which  he  was  fortunate  enough  to  find 
open,  he  obtained  a  light,  and  with  its  assistance  soon  had  a 
bright  fire  blazing  in  the  grate,  and  seated  himself  in  front 
of  it. 

Probably  few  persons  could  contemplate  any  object  for  a 
greater  length  of  time  without  knowing  it,  or  caring  about 
it,  or  thinking  about  it,  or  any  thing  else  in  particular,  than 
Mr.  Edward  Kornicker,  provided  he  was  warm.  And  this 
being  the  case  at  present,  he  sat  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
his  legs  straight  in  front  of  him,  his  feet  resting  on  the  ash- 
pan  under  the  grate,  and  his  eyes  fixed  upon  his  own  boots 
with  a  desperately  wide-awake  stare,  but  utterly  unconscious 
of  every  thing  about  him,  except  that  he  was  snug  and  com 
fortable.  This  state  he  occasionally  diversified  by  a  short 
nap,  which  he  enjoyed  without  any  change  of  position  or 
variation  of  any  kind,  except  that  of  closing  his  eyes. 
Awaking  from  one  of  these  slight  interludes,  he  sat  up, 
rubbed  his  eyes,  and  looked  about  the  room,  then  at  the 
fire,  and  relapsed  into  a  profound  reverie. 

'Not  a  single  gentleman  of  my  acquaintance  excepted,' 
soliloquized  he,  thoughtfully;  'liquors  prohibited,  even  an 
embargo  laid  on  beer.  Food,  plain,  vulgar  food  alone,  at 
discretion.  Well,  the  eating-house  is  near  the  door,'  said 
he,  looking  about  him ;  '  there 's  a  comfort  in  that.  The 
bane  and  antidote  cheek  by  jowl ;  very  handy.  Even  a  call 


HARRY    HARSON  75 

from  the  window  would  bring  a  boy  from  the  refectory. 
Let 's  try,  for  the  fun  of  it.' 

By  way  of  making  the  experiment,  Mr.  Kornicker  raised 
the  sash,  and  thrusting  his  head  out  of  the  window,  called 
n  a  loud  voice,  *  Hallo ! ' 

His  call  was  answered  from  every  part  of  the  building ; 
and  with  particular  emphasis  from  the  region  of  the  des 
peradoes. 

'A  wonderful  spot  for  echoes,'  said  he,  meditatively.  '  I 
should  think  there  were  twenty  at  least.  There 's  plenty  of 
angles;  perhaps  that  makes 4em;  or  perhaps  the  stove-pipes 
or  chimneys ;  there  's  plenty  of  them,  too ;  or  the  windows, 
or ' 

His  farther  investigation  of  the  cause  was  interrupted  by 
the  head  of  a  boy,  which  was  thrust  from  a  window  on  the 
ground-floor,  with  the  face  turned  upward. 

'Are  you  the  refectory  boy  ? '  inquired  Mr.  Kornicker, 
looking  down  in  turn. 

The  head  nodded. 

'  Very  well,  come  up  here ;  I  want  you.' 

The  head  nodded  again,  and  was  withdrawn ;  an  example 
which  Mr.  Kornicker  immediately  followed.  Scarcely  had 
he  resumed  his  seat  at  the  fire,  when  there  was  a  knock  at  the 
door.  *  Come  in,'  said  he ;  and  without  even  turning  to  look 
at  the  door,  as  it  opened,  he  said : 

*  You  're  the  boy  I  saw  just  now,  are  you  ? ' 

The  boy  nodded ;  a  gesture  which  his  questioner  took  for 
granted,  as  he  did  not  even  look  round. 

'And  you  belong  to  that  eating-house  below,  do  you  ? ' 

Again  the  boy  nodded ;  which  reply,  as  before,  was  taken 
for  granted. 

4  Well,  my  little  fellow,'  said  Mr.  Kornicker,  now  turning, 
*  did  any  gentleman  call  in  there  to-day,  and  say  any  thing 


76  HARRY    EARS  ON. 

about  paying  the  score  of  any  other  gentleman,  whenever 
he  chose  to  stop  there,  or  call  for  any  thing,  or  some  trifle  ol 
that  sort  ? ' 

Again  the  boy  nodded,  and  said :  '  Oh  !  yes ;  the  gentle 
man,  Mr.  Rust,'  said  he,  pointing  to  the  name  on  the  door ; 
4  and  he  said,  whenever  a  man  named  Kornicker,  that 's  you, 
I  suppose,'  said  he,  with  an  inquiring  nod. 

1  Yes,  that 's  me ;  well  ? ' 

'  Well,  whenever  you  came,  you  was  to  have  just  what 
you  wanted,  except  liquors  or  ales ;  wittles,  whenever  you 
liked  ;  and  he  would  pay  the  shot.  That 's  what  he  said.' 

'  You  're  sure  it  was  n't  the  dinner  that  was  restricted,  and 
the  liquor  and  ale  at  discretion  ? ' 

'  Very  sure,'  said  the  boy ;  *  he  was  very  partikler ;  and 
he  said  too,  it  was  only  meals  for  one ;  no  friends.' 

*  I  know  it,'  replied  Kornicker,  with  a  melancholy  shake 
of  the  head  ;  '  I  know  it.  It  was  n't  considerate  nor  delicate ; 
but  I  suppose  it 's  his  way ;  and  I  suppose  another  one  ot 
them  is  to  let  nobody  have  his  way  but  himself.  Well, 
well !  Did  he  say  any  thing  about  the  cooking  ? ' 

The  boy  shook  his  head. 

'  Very  well ;  go  down  and  order  me  a  beef-steak  stewed 
in  wine ;  plenty  of  the  wine.  I  '11  be  down  presently. 
That 's  all.  Make  the  sauce  strong ;  do  n't  forget  that? 

The  boy  nodded,  showed  his  teeth,  and  closing  the  door, 
clattered  down  the  stairs. 

'  Wine  diluted  with  steak  is  a  miserable  beverage,  very 
miserable ;  but  it 's  better  than  nothing,'  said  Kornicker, 
resuming  his  seat  at  the  fire.  '  I  wonder  who  this  Rust  is ; 
what  he  does,  and  what  he  wants  of  me  ?  Well,  I  suppose 
he  '11  let  me  know  some  day.  He  's  a  strange  fellow ;  twenty 
dollars,  fire  and  meals ;  and  all  for  sitting  in  front  of  a  fire, 
with  nothing  to  do  but  look  at  one's  toes,  and  put  on  coal ; 


HARRY    H ARSON.  77 

but  lie  was  small  about  the  wine  and  friends,  decidedly  small. 
Snuff  however,  ad  libitum ;  that 's  something.1  This  having 
called  to  his  recollection  that  he  had  a  supply  of  that  article 
about  his  person,  he  drew  out  his  snuff-box,  and  proceeded 
to  extract  from  it  sundry  small  pinches,  which  he  deposited 
in  various  parts  of  the  office ;  this  being  one  of  his  peculiar 
modes  of  distributing  his  stock  of  that  article,  so  that  he 
might  always  find  it  wherever  he  went,  without  the  trouble 
of  drawing  out  his  box.  This  employment  he  continued, 
until  it  struck  him  that  the  order  which  he  had  sent  to  the 
eating-house  must  be  executed ;  and  he  accordingly  locked 
the  office,  and  went  out  for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  the 
fact. 


HARRY    H ARSON. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

LEAVING  Mr.  Kornicker  in  possession  of  his  office,  and 
having  kept  his  promise  of  making  an  arrangement  for  the 
regular  supply  of  that  gentleman's  meals,  subject  to  the 
restrictions  before  mentioned,  Michael  Rust  bent  his  steps 
toward  the  upper  part  of  the  city. 

It  might  have  been  a  knowledge  of  the  great  intrinsic 
worth  of  the  individual  whose  services  he  had  just  secured ; 
or  it  might  have  been  a  feeling  of  relief  at  having  all  ties 
dissolved  between  himself  and  his  formidable  tool,  Grosket ; 
or  it  might  have  been  even  the  insignificant  circumstance  of 
his  having  driven  a  close  bargain  respecting  the  aforesaid 
supply  of  Mr.  Kornicker's  meals ;  or  of  his  having  facetiously 
boxed  the  ears  of  a  small  beggar  who  had  ventured  to  in 
sinuate  to  him  that  his  funds  were  low,  and  that  a  donation 
of  a  few  coppers  would  not  come  amiss ;  or  it  might  have 
been  some  other  equally  trifling  and  unimportant  occurrence 
which  shed  such  a  glow  over  his  pleasant  countenance,  and 
caused  his  step  to  become  so  firm  and  elastic  and  his  pace 
so  rapid.  But  something  there  certainly  was ;  for  on  he 
went,  at  a  fast  walk,  smiling  to  himself,  and  looking  neither 
to  the  right  nor  left,  until  he  found  himself  in  front  of  a 
house  in  the  eastern  part  of  the  city,  with  a  green  door, 
which  boasted  two  narrow  side-lights,  and  a  huge  knocker, 
like  a  countenance  garnished  with  a  pair  of  small  eyes  and 
a  stout  nose.  A  small  tin  sign  reminded  the  public  at  large, 
in  gilt  letters,  that  persons  boarded  there  cheap,  while  a  slip 
of  paper  stuck  beneath,  as  a  kind  of  codicil  to  the  sign,  men- 


HARRY    HARSON.  79 

tioned  what  the  sign  had  left  untold ;  namely,  that  there 
was  an  unfurnished  room  on  the  second  floor  in  the  rear,  in 
which  two  single  gentlemen,  or  a  double  one,  in  the  form  of  a 
man  and  his  other  half,  would  find  themselves  quite  comfort 
able.  Without  pausing  to  notice  these  trifles,  Rust  rubbed 
his  feet  across  a  small  heap  of  mud,  the  nucleus  of  which 
was  an  undersized  mat,  which  lay  in  front  of  the  door,  and 
applying  his  hand  to  the  knocker,  succeeded  in  calling  to  the 
door  a  red-faced  girl,  with  her  hair  hanging  over  her  face, 
and  her  shoes  down  at  the  heel. 

Without  speaking,  Rust  pushed  past  her  and  ascended 
to  a  small  front  room  in  the  second  story.  It  was  a  dark, 
dreary  room,  partly  owing  to  its  being  in  a  narrow  street, 
and  to  the  windows  being  small,  and  partly  owing  to  the 
fact  that  they  had  been  for  a  long  time  on  very  distant  terms 
with  water  of  all  kinds,  except  the  occasional  drops  which 
had  settled  there  in  a  shower.  Rust,  however,  was  too 
much  accustomed  to  every  thing  about  him,  to  notice  its 
defects ;  and  without  bestowing  a  thought  upon  them,  he 
proceeded  to  disrobe  himself.  He  flung  his  hat  upon  the 
bed ;  his  cloak  followed ;  and  untying  his  handkerchief,  he 
shook  his  black  locks  in  disorder  about  his  face. 

Slight  as  the  alteration  in  his  dress  was2  it  produced  a 
great  change  in  his  looks ;  removing  its  character  of  sharp 
ness  and  cunning,  and  giving  it  one  of  bold  and  reckless 
ferocity.  He  then  removed  his  other  garments,  and  substi 
tuted  in  their  place  those  of  a  newer  and  more  fashionable 
appearance;  and  having  completed  his  toilet  to  his  own 
satisfaction,  he  surveyed  himself  in  the  glass. 

'  That  will  do,'  muttered  he ;  '  even  my  own  dear  affec 
tionate  mother,  whom  I  never  saw,  but  who  doubtless  was  a 
very  decent,  well-behaved  woman  in  her  way,  would  not 
know  me.  Ha !  ha !  I  scarcely  know  myself.  I  shall  be 


80  HARRY    H ARSON. 

obliged  to  hang  a  label  on  my  neck,  for  fear  I  should  forget 
who  I  am.  This  is  all  as  it  should  be.  Let  each  of  those 
with  whom  I  have  to  deal,  if  need  be,  describe  the  Michael 
Rust  who  crossed  his  path.  There  are  wheels  within  wheels, 
each  apparently  having  its  own  aim;  all  disconnected,  yet 
all  leading  to  the  same  result ;  and  There  is  a  Michael  Rust 
setting  each  in  motion.  But  each  Michael  Rust  is  different. 
And  that,  that,1  added  he,  pointing  in  the  glass,  '  is  the  man, 
who  has  his  cards  to  play  with  one  Jacob  Rhoneland  and  his 
bright-eyed  daughter,  and  the  lout  who  hangs  about  her, 
like  a  moth  around  a  candle ;  but  I'll  singe  his  wings !  God !' 
said  he,  with  a  sudden,  fierce  burst  of  bitter  wrath,  '  I  '11 
crush  him,  though  I  die !  There  are  others  too,'  said  he, 
almost  immediately  recovering  his  calmness,  *  there  are  others 
too.  I  must  watch ;  nothing  must  escape  me.  I  must  not 
fail.  I  will  not !  I  will  not !  And  they,  the  blind  fools ! 
shall  find  it  out  some  day  to  their  cost.  How  I  can  wheedle 
them,  and  talk  to  them  of  love,  generosity,  friendship,  fine 
feelings  !  Ha !  ha !  What  glorious  sounds  these  are  for  men 
to  truckle  to;  ay,  for  men;  strong-minded,  far-sighted,  clear 
headed  men.  Yes,  I  've  seen  them  yield  their  free-will,  sacri 
fice  themselves  and  their  fortunes  for  a  mere  empty  whim, 
and  call  it  generosity ;  the  fools,  the  slaves,  the  bondmen ; 
ay,  of  a  worse  bondage  than  that  of  shackled  limbs  —  that 
of  a  fettered  mind.  Well,'  continued  he,  in  the  same  musing 
tone,  and  standing  with  folded  arms  and  with  his  eyes  bent 
on  the  floor,  '  it 's  human  nature,  and  it 's  convenient  for  me. 
I  know  them  ;  one,  two,  three,  four ;  all  slaves ;  each  wedded 
to  his  own  particular  folly.  Rhoneland,  one ;  gold  is  his  god. 
Somers,  two ;  he  bows  to  bright  eyes,  pouting  lips,  and  a 
snowy  bosom ;  forgetting  that  old  age,  sickness,  and  the 
earth-worm  prey  on  the  same  food.  Grosket  —  Enoch  Gros- 
ket  —  of  all  fools  the  greatest!  I  bought  him  —  bought 


HARRY    H ARSON.  81 

him,  paid  down  the  gold,  to  make  a  tool  of  him  —  merely 
to  make  a  tool  of  him ;  I  had  but  to  whisper  in  his  ear  of 
gratitude,  and  he  swallowed  the  bait ;  and  I  have  led  him 
at  will  for  five  long  years.  But  he  's  gone  now,  and  has 
grown  dangerous,  and  must  be  looked  to.  There 's  one  more,' 
muttered  he,  passing  his  hand  thoughtfully  across  his  brow ; 
'  clear-headed,  with  an  eye  that  sees  through  trickery,  and 
almost  lifts  the  veil  from  a  man's  heart.  Him  I  fear  the  most. 
With  him  I  have  the  deepest  game  to  play,  and  one  in  which 
detection  is  ruin.  He  trusts  me  now  fully  —  implicitly  — 
should  he  left  the  veil  —  all  is  lost.' 

Drawing  a  chair  to  the  fire,  Rust  seated  himself,  remain 
ing  for  a  long  time  in  deep  abstraction ;  and  during  that 
interval  a  change  seemed  to  have  come  over  the  current  of 
his  thoughts  ;  for  he  said,  speaking  in  the  same  low,  broken, 
abrupt  manner  which  he  had  used  before  : 

'  So  the  cub  's  jealous !  How  he  watches  me  when  I 
trifle  with  the  girl ;  clenching  his  big  fists,  and  twisting  his 
fingers  one  in  the  other ;  his  eyes  flashing  and  his  cheek 
reddening.  But  for  one  thing,  which  he  knows,  and  which 
/  know,  he  would  fall  on  me  and  crush  every  bone  in  my 
body.  Bah !  but  I  have  him.  He  may  writhe,  and  wince, 
and  threaten ;  but  that 's  his  limit.  Could  I  drive  him 

beyond  that  —  could  I  but  drive  him  beyond  that ! 

But,'  said  he,  suddenly  starting  up,  '  the  day  is  waning,  and 
there  is  work  yet  to  be  done.' 

He  went  to  a  closet,  and  took  from  it  a  hat  and  great 
coat  ;  after  which  he  rang  the  bell.  It  was  answered  by  the 
same  slip-shod  girl  who  had  admitted  him  from  the  street. 

'  Has  Mr.  Grosket,  or  any  one  else,  been  here  for  me  ? ' 
inquired  he. 

'  Not  Mr.  Grosket,'  replied  the  girl. 

'Any  one  else  ? '  \ 

4* 


82  HARRY    H ARSON. 

'A  strange  man  came  here  to-day,'  said  the  girl,  hesitating; 
'a  — a  —  ' 

*  Gentleman  ? ' 

The  girl  shook  her  head. 

'What  did  he  look  like?  A  mechanic?  a  laborer?  a 
beggar  ?  or  what  ? '  inquired  Rust,  impatiently. 

'A  ruffen,  Sir ;  a  downright  ruffen,'  replied  the  girl,  with 
a  discrimination  of  character  which  perhaps  her  situation  as 
maid-of-all-work  at  a  public  lodging-house  had  sharpened  to 
a  high  degree  of  nicety.  'One  of  the  sort  of  people  who 
sometimes  come  here  of  dark  nights,  you  know  ;  who  do  n't 
like  to  be  seen  in  the  day-time  —  one  of  them;'  and  she 
nodded  to  Rust,  in  a  significant  manner,  intimating  that 
although  her  language  might  not  be  accurate,  still  her  mean 
ing  was  sufficiently  clear. 

Rust  looked  her  full  in  the  face,  without  making  any 
remark  upon  her  comment  on  the  character  of  his  visitor, 
and  apparently  without  even  noticing  it.  Then  he  asked  : 

'  Did  he  leave  his  name  ? ' 

Again  the  girl  shook  her  head. 

'  Nor  his  business  ? ' 

'  He  said  as  he  went  off,  that  he  was  sorry  you  were  away ; 
and  that  if  you  knew  all  he  did,  you'  d  be  the  most  sorry  of 
the  two.  He  said  he  need  n't  call  again  ;  for  you  'd  find  it 
out  what  he  had  to  tell  soon  enough  for  all  the  fun  it  would 
give  you;  and  then  he  laughed  to  himself,  and  went  off. 
That 's  all,'  said  the  girl,  after  a  pause. 

Rust  evinced  no  appearance  of  surprise  nor  uneasiness  at 
this  communication,  but  merely  asked : 

'Any  one  else  ? ' 

'  No  one.' 

'  Veiy  well ;  you  can  go.' 

The  door  closed  on  the  girl,  but  Rust  remained  standing, 


HARRY    U ARSON.  83 

*  More  trouble  ?  Well,  well ;  let  it  come.  I  have  that  here] 
said  he,  pressing  his  fingers  on  his  forehead,  '  that  laughs  at 
it.  I  may  be  crushed;  and  there  are  those  things  doing 
now  in  which  failure  and  perdition  to  me  go  hand  in  hand ; 
but  I  '11  never  bend !  And  now  Kate,  bright,  laughing  Kate 
Rhoneland,  you  and  I  must  meet,  and  then  we  '11  see  what 
will  come  of  it ! ' 

Shutting  the  door,  he  slowly  descended  the  stairs  and 
went  into  the  street.  His  destination  was  the  abode  of 
Jacob  Rhoneland.  It  was  a  long  way  off,  yet  the  time  flew 
by  so  rapidly  to  the  scheming  man,  that  scarce  a  moment 
seemed  to  have  elapsed  before  he  found  himself  in  front  of 
the  old  man's  dwelling. 

Michael  Rust  was  a  man  who  did  not  trouble  himself  with 
useless  ceremony,  particularly  where  it  might  interfere  with 
his  ends ;  and  as  he  deemed  it  not  unlikely  that  a  knock  at 
the  door  might  result  in  a  denial  of  admittance,  when  it  was 
discovered  that  he  was  the  visitor,  he  prudently  determined 
to  dispense  with  so  useless  a  ceremony ;  and  so  quietly  ad 
mitted  himself  into  the  house,  and  went  to  the  room  usually 
occupied  by  Rhoneland.  Finding  no  one  there,  he  proceeded 
to  the  adjoining  one,  where  he  discovered  Kate  Rhoneland 
engaged  in  sewing. 

*  Father  is  not  at  home,'  said  she,  anticipating  the  question 
which  he  was  preparing  to  ask. 

'Perhaps  not,  perhaps  not,'  said  he,  entering  the  room 
without  the  slightest  hesitation,  and  placing  his  hat  on  the 
floor ;  '  but  you  are,  Kate,  and  I  'm  not  sorry  for  it.  Ah  ! ' 
said  he,  drawing  a  chair  near  her,  and  taking  a  seat,  'it  does 
one  good  to  see  you,  and  to  talk  with  you,  when  the  old  man 
is  away.  Ha !  little  Kate,  how  he  watches  you !  He  knows 
that  you  are  his  golden  apple,  and  that  this  room  is  quite  a 
garden  of  the  Hesperides  when  you  are  in  it.  It  only 


84  HARRY    H ARSON. 

wants  the  old  ma_  just  now,  to  play  the  part  )f  dragon,  to 
complete  the  simile.  By  the  way,'  said  he,  du  ting  his  boots 
with  his  handkerchief,  '  there  are  two  dragons  here  ;  an  old 
one  and  a  cub-dragon ;  Somers,  I  think  you  call  him.' 

There  were  moments  and  themes  which  could  bring  the 
fire  into  Kate  Rhoneland's  eyes,  and  the  red  blood  of  anger 
into  her  face ;  and  this  was  one  of  them.  The  free  and 
familiar  air  of  her  visitor,  coupled  with  her  dislike  of  him, 
and  with  the  slighting  manner  in  which  he  spoke  of  her 
father  and  of  Somers,  had  brought  to  her  lips  a  retort  which 
might  have  proved  unacceptable  to  him,  callous  as  he  was. 
But  at  the  same  moment  came  the  recollection  of  the  almost 
constant  injunction  of  her  father,  that  she  should  be  careful 
not  to  offend  him.  '  Do  n't  break  with  him,  Kate ;  do  n't 
incense  him,  or  he  '11  ruin  me,'  were  the  words  which  were 
for  ever  ringing  in  her  ears,  and  which  now  restrained  her ; 
but  rising  she  said :  '  You  must  excuse  *  the  apple'  just  now, 
Mr.  Rust,  as  she  has  to  see  that  the  garden  is  kept  in  proper 
order.' 

Michael  Rust  rose  and  bowed,  laying  his  hand  upon  his 
heart,  with  an  air  of  profound  reverence,  as  he  said :  *  Cer 
tainly,  my  pretty  Kate ;  who  can  refuse  any  thing  to  Kate 
Rhoneland  ?  Surely,  not  Michael  Rust.  I  shall  be  miserably 
dull  without  you;  miserably  dull.  Bah !  go,  you  silly  jade ! ' 
said  he,  as  the  door  closed.  'Ah !  here  comes  the  cub-dragon. 
I  '11  make  the  most  of  him,  until  the  old  one  comes  in.' 

The  concluding  remark  was  caused  by  the  opening  of 
another  door,  and  the  entrance  of  Ned  Somers. 

*  Mr.  Rhoneland 's  not  here,  I  see,'  said  he,  looking  around. 

'No,  he's  not,'  replied  Rust;  'but  sit  down,  Ned,  sit  down,' 
said  he,  in  a  tone  whose  civility  was  blended  with  no  much 
sarcasm,  that  Somers  found  it  a  matter  of  no  small  difficulty 
to  restrain  himself  from  knocking  him  down  on  the  spot. 


HARRY    H ARSON.  85 

*  Why  do  n't  you  sit  down,  my  dear  young  friend  ?  Chairs 
are  plenty ;  and  as  you  have  just  driven  the  sweetest  little 
girl  in  the  world  from  this  room  by  your  inopportune  arrival, 
there  is  another  one  to  spare.  It  was  cruel  of  you  to  drop 
in  as  you  did,  and  interrupt  one  of  the  most  cosy  and 
endearing  chats  I  ever  had.  She 's  a  tempting  little  witch, 
Ned  ;  ah  !  she 's  a  darling !  I  shall  wake  up  yet  some  day  and 
find  myself  married ;  I  'm  sure  I  shall,  if  I  come  here  often.' 

Ned  Somers,  who  had  taken  a  seat,  grew  exceedingly  red, 
and  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair,  and  for  a  moment  his  eyes 
flashed ;  but  he  observed  the  look  of-  triumphant  malice 
which  stole  from  beneath  the  half-closed  lids  of  the  other ; 
and  the  slight,  sneering  smile  that  played  around  the  corner 
of  his  mouth ;  and  he  recollected  the  noble  singleness  of 
heart  of  Kate  Rhoneland,  and  he  felt  that  the  insinuations 
of  Rust  were  false. 

With  the  intuitive  sagacity  which  was  a  striking  feature 
of  his  character,  Rust  saw  that  there  was  some  process  of 
thought  going  on  in  the  mind  of  Somers,  that  was  allaying 
the  angry  feelings  which  he  was  anxious  to  excite  ;  and  as  it 
was  a  part  of  a  plan  that  he  had  formed  to  drive  him  if 
possible  to  an  assault  upon  himself,  he  kept  on  in  the  same 
sneering  manner : 

' '  Mrs.  Rust ;  Mrs.  Michael  Rust ! '  The  name  sounds  well ; 
and  for  her  I  might  hazard  the  experiment.' 

'  Why  did  you  never  hazard  it  before  ?  You  are  getting 
gra}'-.  But  perhaps  you  have,  and  think  it  dangerous,'  said 
Somers,  quietly. 

The  remark  was  merely  a  casual  one  on  the  part  of 
Somers,  and  intended  to  divert  Rust  -from  his  present  theme ; 
but  its  effect  was  electrical.  He  had  taken  a  seat,  and  he 
now  sprang  up ;  his  eyes  flashing,  his  lips  quivering  and 
livid  with  rage,  and  his  black  hair  fairly  stiff  with  fury. 


86  HARRY    HA  R  SON. 

1D  —  n  !  d  —  n  you  ! '  shrieked  lie,  shaking  both  fists  in 

the  face  of  Somers ;  '  what  do  you  mean  ?  If  you  have 

But  no ;  no  — ! ' 

With  a  suddenness  almost  equal  to  that  with  which  his 
anger  came  on,  it  passed  off,  and  he  said  in  a  voice  strangely 
calmed : 

*  You  do  n't  know  Kate  as  I  do.     I  was  afraid  that  you 
had  whispered  odd  stories  in  her  ear;    but  she  wouldn't 
listen  to  them  if  you  did.     She  must  love  me,  or  she  would 
not  lavish  on  me  all  those  little  endearments  which  she  does, 
and  which  find  their  way  to  the  heart,  and  which  it  is  im 
possible  to  describe ;  and  if  she  loves  me,  she  won't  believe 
you,  Ned.     But  you  won't  betray  what  I  am  telling  you, 
of  our  trifling  love-passages  ?    Kate  would  die  of  confusion  if 
she  knew  that  I  had  even  whispered  of  them.     Come,  come/ 
said  he,  taking  Somers  by  the  hand,  '  promise,  will  you  ?    It 
is  so  unusual  a  thing  for  a  young  girl  like  her  to  doat  as  she 
does  upon  a  man  so  much  older  than  herself  as  I  am,  that  it 
has  made  me  quite  vain  and  silly ;  but  you  will  not  betray 
our  mutual  weaknesses,  Ned,  will  you  ? ' 

Although  this  was  spoken  in  a  low,  soft  tone,  there  was 
something  in  the  look  which  accompanied  it,  and  in  the 
evident  intention  of  the  speaker  to  gall  and  irritate,  which 
had  nearly  made  it  successful ;  and  for  a  moment  Somers 
wavered ;  but  it  was  only  for  a  moment ;  for  the  next  instant 
the  whole  scene  and  the  manner  of  Rust  struck  him  as 
irresistibly  ludicrous,  and  he  burst  out  into  a  hearty  laugh  : 

*  No,  no,  Rust,'  said  he,  '  I  '11  betray  nothing ;  you  're  wel 
come  to  your  love-passages.     But  I  must  go.     I  came  here 
to  see  the  old  man ;  and  as  he 's  not  at  home,  I  must  seek 
him ;  for  what  I  have  to  say  will  not  brook  delay.' 

As  he  went  out,  he  turned  and  said  :  *  Try  it  again,  Rust, 
now  that  the  coast  is  clear.  Go  it  strong  on  the  '  love-pas- 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  87 

sages,'  not  forgetting  the  *  little  endearments.'  She 's  a 
tempting  morsel  for  an  old  man.  Good  bye,  Michael ;  good 
bye ! '  And  with  another  merry  laugh,  he  shut  the  door. 

*  Foiled ! '  exclaimed  Rust,  '  and  by  a  boy !  But  where 
could  he  have  picked  up  that  ?  Was  it  accident,  or  did  he 
dream  it  ?  Or  could  he  have  learned  that  sad  secret  from 
the  only  one  who  knew  it  ?  Well,  well ;  there 's  misery  in 
it,  but  that 's  all.  He  and  this  girl  are  in  league,'  said  he, 
abruptly,  'but  the  old  man  is  mine;  and  through  him  I'll 
bend  her,  and  crush  his  stubborn  heart.  How  I  long  to 
have  it  under  my  feet,  that  I  may  grind  it  to  the  dirt !  But 
the  game 's  up  for  to-day,  and  I  '11  go.' 


88  HARRY    II ARSON. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

MR.  SNORK  was  sitting  in  front  of  a  smouldering  fire  in 
his  attic,  (for  unlike  his  friend  Mrs.  Blossom,  he  was  aspiring 
in  his  ideas,  and  preferred  a  garret  to  a  cellar,)  with  his  head 
bound  up  in  a  faded  cotton  handkerchief,  a  short  pipe  in  his 
mouth,  and  a  beard  of  a  week's  growth  ornamenting  the 
lower  part  of  his  face.  Although  it  was  late  in  the  day,  the 
disordered  state  of  his  attire  showed  that  he  had  but  recently 
quitted  his  bed ;  or  at  all  events,  that  he  had  not  yet  made 
his  morning  toilet.  He  was  in  a  moralizing  mood  too  ;  for 
he  sat  in  silence,  looking  at  the  loose  strings  in  his  shoes,  and 
occasionally  scratching  his  head  through  the  handkerchief 
just  mentioned.  It  was  evident  that  he  was  at  that  moment 
laboring  under  great  absence  of  mind  ;  for  although  his  pipe 
was  unlighted,  he  puffed  at  it  assiduously,  occasionally  with 
drawing  it  from  his  mouth  to  permit  an  imaginary  cloud  of 
smoke  to  escape. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  fire-place  sat  Mrs.  Snork,  a  fat, 
redfaced  woman,  her  head  surmounted  by  a  dirty  cap,  bediz 
ened  with  red  and  yellow  ribands,  from  beneath  which 
straggled  a  few  locks  of  deep  red  hair.  Her  eyes  were  of  a 
bright  aqua-marine  color,  and  her  nose  doubtless  had  once  been 
well  formed,  although  that  fact  could  then  only  be  ascertained 
from  tradition,  from  the  circumstance  of  its  having  been 
crushed  in,  flat  to  her  face.  Her  teeth  were  white  and  strong, 
with  the  exception  of  the  two  front  ones,  which  were  missing, 
probably  having  retired  at  the  same  time  that  her  nosa 
changed  its  condition. 


HARRY    HA  R  S  0  N.  89 

Mrs.  Snork  evidently  was  participating  in  the  feeling  of 
gloom  and  perplexity  which  weighed  so  heavily  upon  the 
spirits  of  her  husband ;  for  she  too  was  silent,  biting  her 
lips  and  occasionally  her  nails,  with  an  expression  of  mingled 
vexation  and  anxiety. 

Mr.  Snork  at  intervals  raised  his  eyes  to  her  face,  with  an 
air  of  investigation  and  deference ;  as  if  desirous  of  arriving 
at  the  result  of  her  deliberations  before  venturing  to  express 
his  own.  At  length,  by  way  of  sounding  her,  he  exhaled  a 
long  sigh,  and  muttered  with  deep  emphasis  : 

'  Our  sickliest  child  !  Had  it  'a  been  the  hump-back,  or 
the  infant  with  a  scald-head,  I  could  ha'  borne  it ;  but  for  it 
to  be  this  one,  this  identical  one,  the  sickliest  of  them  all,  is 
dreadful  aggravating  to  the  feelings.  It  had  got  through 
the  mumps,  and  the  measles,  and  the  hooping-cough,  and  its 
double-teeth ' 

'And  the  small-pox,'  added  Mrs.  Snork,  parenthetically. 

'And  was  n't  subject  to  hives,  nor  fits ;  and  yet  was  so 
very  sickly,  without  our  being  afraid  of  its  dying.  It  was 
an  uncommon  tough  child,  it  was.  It  was  as  tough  as  — 
as  —  as ' 

'Jonah,'  suggested  the  lady. 
Was  he  tough  ? '  asked  Mr.  Snork ;  '  very  tough  ? ' 

'  To  be  sure  he  was,'  replied  his  wife.  '  Did  n't  a  whale 
try  three  whole  days  to  digest  him,  and  could  n't  ? ' 

'As  Jonah,  resumed  Mr.  Snork ;  '  and  such  a  stomach  !  My 
eyes  !  what  a  stomach !  I  Ve  heerd  of  ostrich's  stomachs,  but 
if  one  of  them 'ere  animals,  with  the  tallest  kind  of  a  stomach, 
had  come  across  that  child,  he  would  have  died  of  sheer 
spite.  He  could  n't  have  held  a  candle  to  her.  Why,  she 
could  do  just  what  she  pleased  with  it.  She  could  be  sick 
at  it  whenever  she  liked.  Ten  times  in  one  arternoon  I  Ve 
known  her  to  be.  She  was  worth  two  dollars  a  day,  at  the 


90  HARRY    H ARSON. 

very  least;  and  now  she's  gone;  gone,  never  to  return. 
Cuss  that  House  of  Refuge !  How  it  walks  into  the  best 
affections  of  one's  natur' ! ' 

So  affected  was  Mr.  Snork  by  the  mournful  reflections 
which  crowded  his  mind,  that  after  several  hard  gulps,  he 
dashed  the  back  of  his  hand  across  his  eyes ;  and  applying 
a  lighted  coal  to  the  bowl  of  his  pipe,  smoked  for  five  minutes, 
in  a  state  of  profound  taciturnity. 

'  Why,  that  child '  resumed  he,  after  a  pause. 

*  We  've  had  enough  of  that  there,'  interrupted  Mrs.  Snork, 
who  being  of  a  more  energetic  nature  than  her  husband, 
deemed  it  unnecessary  to  waste  farther  time  in  lamentation, 
wisely  judging  that  all  additional  indulgence  of  that  kind 
would  probably  be  only  lacerating  to  their  feelings,  without 
having  any  beneficial  effect  upon  the  obnoxious  sanctuary 
before  mentioned.  *  She 's  gone,  and  she  wo'n't  come  back ; 
and  there's  an  end  of  it.' 

This,  probably,  would  not  have  been  the  end  of  it,  had 
not  the  lady  decided  that  it  should  be ;  but  that  settled  the 
question  ;  and  Mr.  Snork,  finding  that  farther  discussion  on 
that  subject  would  not  be  admissible,  placed  his  pipe  in  his 
mouth  and  smoked  in  silence,  waiting  for  some  indication 
from  his  better  half  as  to  the  turn  which  she  wished  the 
conversation  to  take. 

1  You  said  Mrs.  Blossom  had  two  new  ones  ? '  said  Mrs. 
Snork,  after  a  pause,  casting  an  inquiring  eye  upon  her  hus 
band,  and  at  the  same  time  drawing  her  chair  near  the  fire. 

'•Such  ones  ! '  ejaculated  the  man,  removing  his  pipe,  only 
sufficiently  to  make  room  for  the  words  to  escape,  and 
instantly  replacing  it. 

'A  boy  and  girl  ? '  inquired  the  woman. 

Snork  nodded. 

'  Who  are  they  ?     Where  did  they  com--  from  ? ' 


HARRY    HARSON.  91 

In  reply  to  this,  the  man  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
with  a  very  slight  shake  of  the  head,  indicating  profound 
ignorance. 

The  woman  looked  at  him  for  some  moments  with  extreme 
dissatisfaction  either  at  his  limited  information  or  at  his  hav 
ing  made  no  greater  efforts  to  increase  it ;  but  before  she 
had  time  to  give  vent  to  this  feeling  in  any  other  manner,  a 
step  was  heard  on  the  stairs.  Snork  rose,  glanced  at  the 
door  with  a  quick  suspicious  look,  and  then  round  the  room, 
as  if  fearful  that  something  might  be  seen  there  which  he 
did  not  wish  to  submit  to  general  inspection. 

'  It 's  bolted  and  barred,'  muttered  he,  in  reply  to  a  look  ol 
his  wife.  '  Even  if  it  was  n't,  what  then  ? '  said  he,  looking 
about  him.  *  It 's  a  very  respectable  kind  of  a  room,  very.' 
Having  arrived  at  this  conclusion,  he  went  to  the  door, 
removed  the  bar,  and  drew  back  the  bolt,  just  as  a  knock 
was  heard  from  without. 

'  Come  in,'  said  Mrs.  Snork,  seating  herself  in  such  a  posi 
tion  as  to  convey  the  idea  that  she  had  not  changed  her 
position  for  the  last  half  hour,  at  the  very  least,  while  Mr. 
Snork  merely  opened  the  door  ajar,  and  reconnoitered  their 
visitor  through  the  crack.  *  Pshaw ! '  said  he,  flinging  it 
wide  open,  '  it 's  only  Mrs.  Blossom.' 

With  this  somewhat  disparaging  observation,  Snork 
turned  on  his  heel,  and  leaving  his  visitor  to  enter  and  shut 
the  door  after  her,  walked  to  the  fire-place,  in  front  of  which 
he  seated  himself,  without  condescending  to  make  any  farther 
observation.  Nor  was  it  until  then  that  he  observed  the 
expression  of  quiet  self-complacency  which  usually  marked 
the  countenance  of  his  guest,  had  been  displaced  by  one  ot 
anxiety  and  alarm. 

'  How  now,  old  woman  ? '  exclaimed  he,  as  this  discovery 
forced  itself  upon  him.  '  Who  's  dead,  or  murdered  ?  Has 
the  cripple  run  away,  or  the  dumb  boy  informed  agin  you  ? 


92  HARRY    H ARSON. 

or  is  the  North  River  a-fire,  or  what  ?  Out  with  it !  Cuss 
me !  but  I  do  believe  she  is  going  to  faint !  Mrs.  S.,  just 
hand  out  that  brandy,  will  you  ? ' 

The  woman  thus  addressed,  apparently  sympathizing  with 
the  unknown  trouble  of  her  visitor,  and  perhaps  not  a  little 
actuated  by  a  feeling  of  curiosity  to  know  more,  hastened  to 
fill  a  small  cup  with  the  liquor,  and  to  place  it  to  the  lips  of 
Mrs.  Blossom,  who,  notwithstanding  her  appearance  of 
exhaustion,  drained  it  off  without  remark,  and  wiped  her 
lips  with  the  back  of  her  hand,  with  evident  satisfaction. 

'  Now  then,  you  feel  better,  do  n't  you  ? '  said  Mr.  Snork, 
whose  awe  of  his  wife  seemed  to  wear  off  in  company. 
*  What 's  the  muss  ?  Let 's  have  it.' 

Mrs.  Blossom,  after  several  unsuccessful  attempts  at  find 
ing  her  voice,  apparently  discovered  it  in  the  lower  part  of 
her  stomach,  and  exclaimed  in  a  sepulchral  tone,  which 
seemed  to  emanate  from  that  region  : 

'It's  all  up,  Mr.  Snork!  all  up!  The  police  has  been 
down  on  us,  and  four  of  the  lambs  is  took.' 

'  Hallo ! '  shouted  Mr.  Snork,  in  the  intensity  of  his  earn 
estness,  turning  round,  and  for  the  first  time  facing  Mrs. 
Blossom.  '  How  now !  —  four  on  'em  took  ? ' 

Mrs.  Blossom  shook  her  head  in  a  mournful  manner  as 
she  replied :  '  Four  on  'em ;  among  'em  was  the  infant  with 
sore  eyes,  what  I  nussed  as  if  it  had  been  my  own  child ; 
and  little  Bill,  too ;  the  cream,  the  very  cream  of  my  set ! 
Sick  a  set  as  they  was !  New- York  had  n't  its  match  for 
trainin'.  Little  Bill,  when  he  went  out  this  blessed  morning, 
said  he  knowed  something  was  a-coming  over  him.  It  might 
be  a  colic,  he  said,  or  something  else  —  he  did  not  know 
what ;  but  he  knowed  it  was  something ;  he  had  a  presenti 
ment  of  it,  a  sort  of  sinking  of  the  stomach ;  and  now,  here  's 
the  end  of  it.' 


HARRY    H ARSON  93 

'  Little  Bill  took  too  ! '  said  Mr.  Snork,  with  much  interest. 
Who  'd  have  thought  it  ?  and  he  such  a  wide-awake  'un ! 
But  out  with  it,  Mrs.  Blossom ;  let 's  hear  how  it  was.' 

'  Well,'  said  the  >  woman,  looking  cautiously  about  the 
room,  rather  from  a  habit  of  suspicion  acquired  by  living  in 
the  constant  perpetration  of  acts  which  brought  her  within 
the  reach  of  the  law,  than  from  any  apprehension  of  imme 
diate  danger :  '  it  was  all  about  the  boy  and  girl  you  saw  at 
my  place,'  said  she,  nodding  to  Mr.  Snork,  by  way  of  calling 
his  attention  to  that  fact.  *  The  girl  gave  me  the  slip  two 
days  ago,  and  I  never  heerd  on  her  till  this  mornin',  when 
Bill  Smith,  the  beak  what  I  keeps  in  pay  to  let  me  know 
what 's  in  the  wind,  run  in  to  tell  me  that  there  was  a  com 
plaint  agin  me  at  the  police  office,  and  a  warrant  gettin'  out 
arter  me,  and  that  I  'd  better  run  for  it,  or  I  'd  be  nabbed. 
Before  he  got  through,  I  seed  'em  a  comin ;  and  I  sloped 
out  of  the  back  winder,  and  got  off;  while  he  stayed  there 
to  lead  them  off  the  scent ;  but  they  caught  three  or  four  of 
the  babies,  what  happened  to  drop  in  just  then  ;  and  I  s'pose 
they  're  booked  for  the  House  of  Refuge.  That  there  place 
will  be  the  ruin  on  us ! ' 

Here  the  lady  paused  and  shook  her  head,  in  a  disconsolate 
manner,  but  being  invited  by  Mr.  Snork  to  take  another 
'pull'  at  the  bottle,  which  stood  in  full  view,  and  having 
accepted  his  invitation  ;  and  having,  by  dint  of  such  pulling, 
contrived  to  swallow  about  a  gill  of  its  contents ;  and  being 
thereby  not  a  little  refreshed,  she  said  that  she  '  felt  much 
better,  and  was  glad  to  have  sich  friends  as  the  Snorks.  She 
had  always  said  they  were  above  the  ordinary  run  of  friends, 
and  so  they  were.  As  for  herself,  she  was  bu'st  up ;  out 
and  out  a  bu'sted  woman  ;  but  she  hoped  they  never  would 
be  —  so  she  did.  She  was  in  earnest  in  what  she  said, 
although  perhaps  they  might  not  think  it  —  but  she  was.' 


94  HARRY    HARSON. 

*  Well,  well,  go  on,'  said  Snork,  who  seemed  to  take  more 
interest  in  the  detail  of  her  escape  than  in  her  praise  of 
himself;  'well,  you  cut  and  run.    What  then      What  came 
of  the  boy  ?  the  one  I  saw  ?     Did  they  claw  him  too  ? ' 

Mrs.  Blossom  placed  her  fore-finger  on  the  end  of  her 
nose,  and  pressing  that  feature  very  flat  to  her  face,  and 
winking,  said,  with  a  low  chuckling  laugh  : 

'•Did  they,  though  ?  There 's  more  in  that  boy  than  you 
think  for.  I  'd  sooner  lose  my  whole  set  than  him.  It  was 
him  that  they  were  arter ;  but  he  was  off,  long  ago.  My 
eyes !  Did  they  think  when  the  gal  was  gone  that  I  'd  be 
fool  enough  to  keep  him  where  they  could  reach  him  ?  Did 
they  think  that  ?  Did  n't  I  know  that  they  'd  move  heaven 
and  airth  to  get  him  ?  He !  he !  he !  '  Let  'em  look  —  let  'em 
look ;  and  let  'em  have  all  they  find  of  him.  They  're  wel 
come  to  it.' 

*  So  you  hid  him,  then  ? '  inquired  Snork,  drawing  from 
his  pocket  an  iron  tobacco-box,  from  which  he  took  a  large 
piece  of  tobacco,  which  he  deposited  in  his  mouth.     After 
this  he  shut  the  box,  with  a  loud  click,  and  restored  it  to  its 
former  place  in  his  pocket. 

'  Never  you  mind  what  I  did  with  him,'  replied  Mrs.  Blos 
som,  with  a  leer  at  the  man ;  '  that 's-  my  affair.  He 's  where 
they  wo'n't  find  him ;  nor  you,  nor  any  one  else.' 

'  Oh !  ho !  you  -'re  coming  the  mysterious  over  us,  are 
you  ?  Well,  that 's  your  look-out.  You  may  hide  youi 
babies,  and  be  d  —  d,  for  all  I  care,'  replied  Mr.  Snork  care 
lessly,  kicking  a  small  stump  of  wood  in  the  fire ;  '  only  I 
thought  that  as  the  game  was  up  with  you,  and  the  gal  gone, 
and  the  beaks  arter  the  boy,  you  'd  like  to  get  rid  of  him ; 
that 's  all.  But  we  want  to  meddle  with  no  one 's  affairs  — 
do  we,  Mrs.  Snork  ? ' 

That  lady,  who  had  taken  no  active  part  in  the  conver- 


HARRY   EARS  ON  95 

sation,  but  on  the  contrary,  to  show  either  her  indifference 
to  her  husband,  or  her  visitor,  had  gone  to  the  window  and 
was  looking  out,  turned  short  around,  and  without  replying 
to  the  question,  said  : 

1  If  there  's  any  lady  or  gentleman  in  this  'ere  room  who 
expects  a  visit  from  the  police,  they  'd  better  make  them 
selves  scarce,  'cause  the  police  is  coming ;  /  do  n't  expect 
nobody.  /  do  n't  keep  such  vulgar  company.' 

Saying  this,  the  lady  seated  herself  complacently  on  a  small 
stool,  and  looked  with  a  pleasant  smile  in  the  fire.  Her 
composure,  however,  was  shared  neither  by  Mr.  Snork  nor 
Mrs.  Blossom  ;  and  after  a  hurried  consultation  of  a  minute 
or  two,  the  man  opened  a  small  door,  communicating  with  a 
dark  passage  in  which  was  a  narrow  stair-way  leading  to  a 
back  street.  Beckoning  to  Mrs.  Blossom  to  follow,  he  stood 
holding  the  latch  of  the  door,  until  the  noise  of  the  persons 
ascending  the  main  stair-case  warned  him  that  it  was  time 
to  be  off;  when,  shutting  the  door,  he  left  the  room  in  the 
undivided  possession  of  his  lady. 

Scarcely  had  they  disappeared,  when  the  other  door  was 
flung  open,  and  one  or  two  police-officers  entered,  accom 
panied  by  a  short,  square-built  man,  with  fiery  black  eyes, 
who  burst  into  the  room,  followed  at  a  less  rapid  pace  by  an 
old  man  who  led  a  little  girl  by  the  hand. 

'Is  your  name  Snork?'  demanded  the  former,  impetu 
ously  ;  '  answer  me.' 

A  woman  who  could  keep  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Snork  in 
subjection,  was  one  not  likely  to  be  intimidated  by  the 
general  run  of  men ;  and  she  accordingly  answered,  '  that 
what  her  name  was,  was  her  own  business  and  none  of  his.' 

'  Damme,  you  may  well  be  ashamed  of  it ! '  exclaimed 
the  man.  fiercely;  'one  whose  life  is  spent  in  breaking  the 


96  HARRY    HARSON. 

hearts  of  children,  and  making  them  food  for  the  prison,  the 
gallows,  and  the  grave,  may  well  shrink ' 

*  Come,  come,  Frank,'  interrupted  the  old  man,  '  this  will 
never  do.     You  know  nothing  against  this  person.     I  'm 
sure,'  said  he,  *  you  would  not  willingly  be  unjust,  and  you 
are  so  now.     We  came  here  merely  to  ask  a  few  questions, 
which  I  have  no  doubt  will  be  answered  without  hesitation. 
We  are  searching  for  a  boy,  the  brother  of  this  girl,'  said 
he,  turning  to  the  woman,  who  directed  her  attention  to  him 
for  the  purpose  of  not  observing  the  operations  of  the  police 
men,  who,  with  a  spirit  of  inquiry  peculiar  to  police-officers, 
were  overturning  the  numerous  heaps  of  rubbish  and  old 
clothing  which  lay  scattered  about  the  room,  possibly  for 
the  purpose  of  examining  their  quality.     '  If  you  can  give 
us  any  information  respecting  him,  you  will  not  only  oblige 
us,  but  will  be  rewarded  for  your  trouble.' 

Had  Mrs.  Blossom  been  more .  communicative,  it  is  not 
improbable  that  the  last  part  of  Harson's  remark  would  have 
placed  her  -secret  in  imminent  danger ;  but  as  Mrs.  Snork 
happened  to  be  profoundly  ignorant  on  the  subject,  she 
answered,  bluntly,  that  she  knew  nothing  about  him. 

'  Nor  of  the  woman  who  keeps  him  ? ' 

'  I  do  n't  keep  the  run  of  all  the  women  that  has  boys,' 
replied  Mrs.  Snork,  sulkily.  *  Most  of  'em  has  'em.' 

'  Her  name 's  Blossom,'  said  the  old  man. 

*  Well,  I  suppose  that  does  n't  hinder  her  from  having  a 
boy,  does  it  ? '  replied  Mrs.  Snork ;  '  or  two,  or  a  dozen. 
There  is  no  law  agin  it,  is  there  ?     I  do  n't  see  what  I  've 
got  to  do  with  this  'ere ;  or  why  you  come  rioting  in  my 
premises,  arter  run-away  old  women  and  run-away  boys.     I 
do  n't  keep  lodgings  for  'em.' 

'  Come,  come,  old  woman,  this  ere  is  all  gammon,'  said 


HARRY    HARSON.  97 

one  of  the  policemen,  who  had  got  through  his  investigation, 
and  was  ready  to  take  part  in  the  dialogue.  '  It  wo'n't  go 
down  with  us.  We  know  you,  and  you  know  us  ;  so  put  a 
stopper  on  your  tongue,  and  answer  our  questions ;  and  civ 
illy  too,  and  straight  forrards,  or  we  '11  rake  up  some  old 
grudges,  which  you  would  n't  like  to  have  meddled  with. 
So  look  sharp  now.  Where  's  Mrs.  Blossom  ? ' 

'  I  do  n't  know,'  replied  the  woman,  in  a  tone  not  a  little 
subdued  by  the  last  hint  of  the  officer. 

'  Recollect  that,  Bill,'  said  the  man,  turning  to  his  asso 
ciate.  '  She  do  n't  know.  Put  that  down.  I  suppose 
you  never  saw  her,'  said  he,  again  addressing  the  woman. 

*  Yes,  I  did,'  said  Mrs.  Snork,  evidently  ill  at  ease,  at  the 
progress  of  the  examination  ;  while  Bill,  drawing  a  lead  pen 
cil  from  his  pocket,  proceeded  to  wet  its  point  on  his  tongue, 
and  to  write  his  own  name  in  a  small  book  with  great  fre 
quency  and  perseverance,  leaving  the  lady  under  the  impres 
sion  that  her  answers  were  going  down  in  black  and  white. 

'  She  did  see  her,  Bill,'  said  the  man.     '  Book  that.' 

Bill  wrote  his  name  again. 

«  When  ? ' 

'  About  ten  minutes  ago.  She  went  out  there  said  Mrs. 
Snork,  pointing  to  the  door  through  which  Mr.*.  Blossom 
had  retreated.  '  Where  she  went  to,  or  where  the  boy  is,  or 
who  he  is,  or  any  thing  more  about  him,  I  do  n't  know ; 
that 's  flat.' 

Saying  this,  by  way  of  proving  that  it  was  flat,  she  slapped 
her  hand  on  her  own  knee,  and  turned  her  back  upon 
them  alL 

'  Have  you  booked  all  that,  Bill  ? ' 

Bill  nodded. 

'  If  an  abundant  reward  could  induce  you  to  give  us  and 
more  information,'  said  the  old  man.  hesitating  : 


98  HARRY    HARSON. 

'I've  told  you  all  I  know,'  replied  the  woman,  sharply 
*  If  you  '11  pay  for  lies,  I  '11  give  you  plenty  of  'em.' 

Harson  cast  a  puzzled  look  at  the  officers. 

'  I  guess  she  do  n't  know  any  thing  more,'  said  the  man. 
If  she  does,  and  has  been  coming  her  nonsense  over  me, 
she  '11  pay  up  for  it,  that 's  all,  and  she  knows  it.  Come, 
Sir ;  there  's  nothing  more  to  be  did  here.' 

Saying  this,  he  turned  on  his  heel,  and,  followed  by  the 
others,  left  the  room. 


HARRY    H ARSON.  99 


CHAPTER    IX. 

IN  the  same  room  which  has  been  already  described,  in 
Harry  Harson's  dwelling,  and  in  one  of  the  stout,  plethoric 
chairs  before  mentioned  as  constituting  a  part  of  its  furniture, 
and  beneath  the  superintendence  of  the  busy  clock,  and  un 
der  the  watchful  eye  of  that  respectable  dog  Spite,  sat  Jacob 
Rhoneland,  with  his  elbow  resting  on  the  table,  his  cheek 
leaning  on  the  palm  of  his  hand,  and  his  eyes  half  shaded  by 
his  long  blanched  locks,  listening  with  deep  anxiety  to  liar- 
son,  who  occupied  a  chair  opposite,  and  was  speaking  with 
an  earnestness  which  showed  that  the  subject  on  which  he 
discoursed  was  one  in  which  he  felt  no  slight  interest. 

The  manner  of  Rhoneland  would  have  attracted  the 
notice  of  even  a  casual  observer.  He  seemed  restless  and 
nervous ;  and  at  times  even  frightened.  Occasionally  he 
smiled  faintly,  and  shaking  his  head,  half  rose  from  his  seat, 
but  sat  down,  scarcely  conscious  of  what  he  did  ;  and  lean 
ing  his  forehead  on  the  palm  of  his  hand,  seemed  to  listen 
with  breathless  attention,  as  if  dreading  to  lose  a  word  of 
Harson's  remarks,  which  were  occasionally  strengthened  by 
his  pressing  his  hand  gently  on  Rhoneland's,  as  it  rested  on 
the  table.  At  last,  Harson,  in  conclusion,  said  in  an  earnest 
tone  :  '  Now  tell  me,  Jacob,  on  your  honor,  do  you  love  her  ? ' 

'  Do  I  love  her? '  repeated  Rhoneland  ;  '  do  I  love  my  own 
child,  my  own  little  Kate,  who  slept  in  my  arms  when  a  child, 
and  who,  now  that  she  has  become  quite  a  woman,  and  I 
am  gray,  and  feeble,  and  broken  down,  still  clings  to  me  ? 
Others  have  found  me  a  querulous,  troublesome  old  man, 


100  HARRY    H ARSON. 

and  have  fallen  away  from  me ;  but  she  never  did.  Do  n't 
ask  me  if  I  love  her,  Harry,  do  n't  ask  that  again.  Do  I 
think  of  any  one  else,  or  care  for  any  one  else  ?  Dead  and 
frosty  as  this  old  heart  is,  she  has  the  whole  of  it ;  and  she 
leserves  it ;  God  bless  her !  God  bless  her !  It 's  not  a  little 
Jaatter  that  would  make  me  forget  Kate.' 

The  old  man  raised  his  head  ;  and  his  eye  lighted  up  with 
an  expression  of  pride,  as  he  thought  of  his  child.  It  was 
transient,  and  as  it  passed  off  he  fell  into  deep  thought. 
What  strange  fancies  peopled  those  few  moments  of  thought ; 
for  the  memory  of  the  old  is  teeming  with  phantoms  of 
hopes  and  dreams,  long  past ;  familiar  things,  part  of  them 
selves,  of  their  very  being,  but  now  melted  into  air,  faded 
and  gone,  they  cannot  tell  when  or  whither ;  and  of  faces 
and  forms  long  since  shrouded  in  the  tomb.  And  in  the 
dim  ears  of  age,  in  faint  whispers,  speak  voices  whose  tones 
are  never  to  be  heard  again  ;  awakening  old-  affections,  sub 
dued  indeed  by  time,  but  yet  unextinguished,  and  slumbering 
in  hidden  corners  of  memory,  and  appealing  to  the  heart  of 
the  living,  and  begging  still  to  be  cherished  there.  Rhone- 
land  sighed  as  he  turned  his  eyes  from  the  window,  and 
looked  down  at  his  withered  hands.  '  They  were  not  so  when 
Kate  was  a  child.  lie  was  far  from  young,  even  then,  but 
not  so  old  and  shattered  as  now.  Kate's  mother  was  living 
too  ;  she  was  much  younger  than  he  was ;  and  he  had  hoped 
that  she  would  have  outlived  him  ;  but  he  had  followed  her 
to  the  grave,  and  he  was  left  alone  with  his  little  girl ! ' 
His  lip  quivered  ;  for  he  remembered  her  watchful  kindness ; 
her  patience ;  the  many  marks  of  affection  which  had  escaped 
her,  showing  that  he  was  always  uppermost  in  her  thoughts ; 
and  that,  amid  all  other  occupations,  she  never  forgot  him. 
They  had  been  trifling  indeed ;  perhaps  unnoticed  at  the  time ; 
but  he  had  missed  them  when  she  was  in  her  grave,  and  they 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  101 

carne  no  more.  She  had  begged  him  to  cherish  and  guard 
their  child  when  she  should  be  gone,  and  there  would  be 
none  to  love  her  but  him.  Had  he  done  so  ?  'Ay !  with 
heart  and  soul ;  with  heart  and  soul,'  muttered  he,  rising 
and  walking  across  the  room,  to  conceal  the  working  of  his 
countenance,  and  the  tears  which  started  in  his  eyes. 

'  Oh  Harry ! '  said  he,  turning  to  Harson,  '  if  you  knew 
all,  you  would  n't  ask  if  I  love  Kate.  She 's  every  thing  to 
me  now.  All  are  gone  but  her ;  all  —  all ! ' 

He  returned,  and  seated  himself,  with  a  deep  sigh.  His 
lips  moved  as  if  he  were  speaking,  though  no  sound  escaped 
them ;  but  after  a  moment  he  said  :  '  It 's  all  that  I  can  do 
for  one  who 's  dead.' 

'I  do  believe  that  your  child  is  dear  to  you,  Jacob;  I 
never  doubted  it,'  said  Harson ;  '  but  there  is  another  question 
which  I  must  ask.  *  Have  you  observed  her  of  late  ?  Have 
you  noticed  her  drooping  eye,  her  want  of  spirits,  and  failing 
strength  ? ' 

Rhoneland  moved  restlessly  in  his  chair,  and  then 
answered :  *  No,  no,  Harry,  you  're  jesting.  Kate's  eye  is 
bright,  and  her  cheek  full  and  round ;  her  step  elastic  and 
firm.  I  watch  that,  Harson.  Oh  !  Harry,  you  do  n't  dream 
how  anxiously  I  watch  her.  Her  life  is  mine ;  her  heart's 
blood  is  my  heart's  blood.  She 's  in  no  danger,  no  danger, 
Harry,'  said  he,  taking  Harson's  hand  between  his,  and 
looking  appealingiy  in  his  face.  '  Is  she  in  any  danger  ? 
Do  n't  deceive  me.  Is  any  thing  the  matter  with  her  ? ' 

'  No,  not  just  now,'  replied  Harson.  '  But  suppose  you 
should  see  her  becoming  thin,  and  her  looks  and  health 
failing ;  and  even  though  she  should  not  die,  suppose  her 
young  heart  were  heavy,  and  her  happiness  destroyed  —  and 
by  you  ? ' 

The  old  man  looked  at  Harson  with  a  troubled,  wistful 


102  HARRY   H ARSON. 

eye,  as  he  said :  '  Well,  Harry,  well ;  I  'm  old  —  very  old ; 
do  n't  trifle  with  me,  I  can't  bear  it.  What  do  you  mean  ? 
Is  Kate  ill?' 

*  No,  not  exactly  ill]  replied  Harson,  much  at  a  loss  how 
to  introduce  his  subject.  *  Suppose,  in  short,  that  she  should 
fall  in  love,  some  day  —  for  young  girls  will  do  these  things 
• —  and  suppose  that  the  young  fellow  was  a  noble,  frank- 
hearted  boy,  like  —  like  Ned  Somers,  for  instance  —  would 
you  thwart  her  ?  I  only  say  suppose  it  to  be  Sorners.' 

'  Kate  does  n't  think  of  these  things,'  said  the  old  man,  in 
a  querulous  tone.  '  She's  a  child  ;  a  mere  child.  It  will  be 
time  enough  to  talk  of  them  years  hence.  •  God  help  me  ! 
muttered  he,  pressing  his  hands  together,  *  Can  it  be  that  she, 
my  own  little  Kate,  will  desert  me  ?  I'll  not  believe  it ! 
She's  but  a  child,  Harry  ;  only  a  child.' 

'  Kate  is  nearly  eighteen,  Jacob,'  replied  Harson,  '  and 
quite  a  woman  for  her  years.  She 's  beautiful,  too.  I  pre 
tend  to  no  knowledge  of  women's  hearts,  nor  of  the  precise 
age  at  which  they  think  of  other  things  than  their  dolls  ; 
but  were  I  a  young  fellow,  and  were  such  a  girl  as  Kate 
Rhoneland  in  my  neighborhood,  I  should  have  been  over 
head  and  ears  in  love,  months  ago.' 

Jacob  Rhoneland  folded  his  hands  on  the  table,  and 
leaned  his  head  upon  them,  without  speaking,  until  Harson 
said,  after  the  lapse  of  some  minutes,  'Come,  Jacob,  what 
ails  you  ? ' 

Without  making  any  reply  to  this  question,  Rhoneland, 
looking  him  full  in  the  face,  asked,  in  a  sad  tone :  '  Do 
you  think,  Harry,  that  Kate,  my  own  child,  has  turned 
her  back  upon  me,  and  given  her  heart  to  a  stranger?  And 
do  you  think  that  she  will  desert  her  father  in  his  old  age, 
and  leave  him  to  die  alone  ? ' 

4  Come,  come,  Rhoneland,  this  is  too  bad,'  said  Harson  ; 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  103 

*  this  is  mere  nonsense.  If  the  girl  should  happen  to  cast  a 
kind  glance  at  Ned,  Ned 's  a  fine  fellow  ;  and  if  Ned  should 
happen  to  think  that  Kate  had  not  her  equal  among  all 
whom  he  knew,  he  would  be  perfectly  right.  And  then  if, 
in  the  course  of  time,  they  should  happen  to  carry  matters 
farther,  and  get  married,  I  do  n't  see  why  you  should  take  it 
to  heart,  or  should  talk  of  desertion,  and  dying  alone.  I  '11 
warrant  you  Ned  is  not  the  man  to  induce  a  girl  to  abandon 
her  friends.  No,  no  ;  he  's  too  true-hearted  for  that.' 

*  Well,  well,'  said  the  old  man,  rising  and  gazing  anxiously 
about  him,  '  God  grant  that  it  may  never  happen.     It  will 
be  a  sad  day  for  me  when  it  does.     I  'd  rather  be  in  my  grave. 
I  cannot  tell  you  all ;  but  if  you  knew  what  /  do,  perhaps 
you  'd  think  so  too.    Indeed  you  would,  Harry.    There  's  one 
who  knows  more  about  Somers  than  either  you  or  I ;  much 
that 's  bad,  very  bad.     I  can't  tell  his  name.' 

'  I  know  it  already,'  replied  Harson  :  '  Michael  Rust.' 
'Ha!'  ejaculated  Rhoneland,  in  a  faint  voice,  his  cheek 
growing  pale ;  '  You  know  Michael  Rust,  do  you  ? ' 

*  I  know  something  of  him,  and  but  little  in  his  favor. 
What  he  says  against  Somers  is  not  worth  thinking  of.     Let 
him  clear  his  own  name.    Perhaps  he  may  be  called  on  to  do 
it  some  day,  and  may  find  it  no  easy  matter.     And  now,  my 
old  friend,'  said  he,  taking  Rhoneland  by  the  hand,  '  since  we 
have  spoken  of  this  Rust,  let  me  caution  you  against  him. 
Listen  to  no  tales  of  his  respecting  Kate,  or  Ned,  or  any  one 
else.     Beware  of  all  connection  with  him.     Above  all,  give 
him  no  hold  on  yourself;  for  if  you  do,  depend  on  it,  you  '11 
rue  it.     I  've  made  inquiries  about  him ;  and  you  may  rest 
assured  that  I  do  not  speak  unadvisedly.' 

Rhoneland  had  risen  to  go ;  but  as  Harson  spoke  he  sank 
feebly  in  his  chair,  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  with  his 
long  hair  falling  over  them ;  but  no  sound  of  emotion  escaped 


104  HARRY    H ARSON. 

him,  although  Harson  could  see  that  he  trembled  violently, 
and  that  there  was  a  great  internal  struggle  going  on.  At 
last  he  said  :  '  It 's  very  hard,  Harry,  to  feel  that  you  are  in 
the  power  of  a  man  who  would  not  hesitate  to  sacrifice  even 
your  life  to  his  own  ends ;  and  yet  to  know  that  it  must  be 
so ;  that,  hate  and  loathe  him  as  you  may,  your  fate  is  linked 
with  his,  and  that  he  and  you  must  sink  or  swim  together. 
But  so  it  is,  God  help  me !  a  poor  bewildered  old  man  !  Oh  ! 
Harry,  could  I  but  die,  with  *ione  to  molest  me,  or  see  me, 
but  my  own  dear  child  ;  with  no  one  to  haunt  my  death-bed 
and  torture  me,  and  threaten  me  and  her;  and  could  I  but 
know  that  when  I  am  gone  she  at  least  will  be  happy,  I  'd  do 
^t,  Harry,  I  'd.do  it !  Life  is  not  to  me  what  it  once  was.  It 's 
dull  enough,  now.' 

'And  who  is  this  who  has  such  power  over  you  ? '  inquired 
Harson,  placing  his  hand  on  his  shoulder.  *  Come,  be  frank 
with  me,  Jacob  ;  who  is  it  ?  Is  it  Michael  Rust  ? ' 

Rhoneland  started  up,  looked  suspiciously  about  the  room, 
and  said  in  a  quick,  husky  voice  :  '  Did  I  say  it  was  Rust  ? 
I  'm  sure  I  did  not,  Harry.  Oh !  no,  not  Rust.  He 's  a  noble, 
generous  fellow  ;  so  frank,  and  free,  and  bold.  Oh  !  no,  not 
Rust ;  he 's  my  best  friend.  I  would  n't  offend  Rust,  nor 
thwart  him,  nor  cross  his  path,  nor  even  look  coldly  on  him. 
Oh  !  no,  no,  no !  Do  n't  speak  of  him.  I  do  n't  like  to  talk 
of  him.  Let 's  speak  of  something  else ;  of  yourself,  or  Ned, 
or  Kate  —  of  Kate,  my  own  dear  little  Kate.  She 's  a  noble 
girl,  Harry,  is  she  not  ?  Ha  !  ha !  that  she  is  ! '  and  the  old 
man  laughed  faintly,  drew  a  deep  sigh,  and  turned  abruptly 
away. 

*  Harry,'  said  he,  after  a  pause,  'will  you  make  me  a 
promise  ? ' 

'  If  it  is  one  which  a  man  may  honestly  keep,  I  will,'  re    | 
plied  Harson. 


HA  R  R  Y    If  A  J2  S  0  N.  105 

*  When  I  am  dead,  will  you  be  a  father  to  Kate  ?  —  love 
her  as  I  have  Joved  her  —  no,  no,  that  you  cannot  —  but  love 
her  you  can,  and  will ;  and  above  all,'  said  he,  sinking  his 
voice,  '  let  no  evil  tales  respecting  her  father  be  whispered  in 
her  ear  ;  let  her  believe  that  he  was  all  that  was  virtuous  and 
good.     I  Ve  wronged  no  man,  Harry ;  and  however  much 
appearances  may  hereafter  be  against  me,  this    heart   and 
hand  are  honest ;  there 's  no  fraud  or  deceit  in  what  I  ask, 
and  I  know  you  '11  do  it ;  for  when  I  'm  in  my  grave,  her 
heart  will  be  the  last  hold  I  shall  have  on  earth.     When  the 
dead  are  swept  from  memory  too,  the  earth  is  lost  to  them 
indeed.     Will  you  promise,  Harry  ? ' 

4 1  will,'  said  Harson  ;  '  and  as  my  own  child  will  I  guard 
her  from  all  harm.' 

*  That 's  all ;  and  now,  God  bless  you !     I  Ve  lingered  here 
too  long.     Do  n't  forget  your  promise.     I  feel  happier  for  it 
even  now.' 

Jacob  Rhoneland,  however,  was  not  doomed  to  reach  his 
home  in  the  same  frame  of  mind  in  which  he  then  was ;  for 
he  had  not  gone  far  from  Harson's  house,  when  a  voice 
whose  tones  sent  the  blood  to  his  heart,  exclaimed:  'Ha, 
Jacob  !  my  old  friend  Jacob  !  It  makes  my  heart  dance  to 
see  you  walking  as  briskly  as  if  old  age  and  the  cares  of  life 
had  left  no  mark  upon  you.  You  're  a  happy  man,  Jacob.' 

Rhoneland  started ;  for  in  front  of  him,  bowing,  and  smirk 
ing,  and  rubbing  his  hands  together,  stood  Michael  Rust,  his 
eyes  glowing  and  glittering,  with  a  glee  that  was  perfectly 
startling.  Rhoneland  muttered  something  of  its  being  a  fine 
day,  and  of  the  pleasant  weather,  which  had  tempted  him 
abroad,  and  then  stopped  abruptly. 

*  You  acted  unwisely,  my  friend,  very  unwisely,  in  being 
from  home  at  such  a  moment,'  said  Rust,  *  for  I  just  came 
from  there ;  and  such  doings,  Jacob !  such  plots !  such  con- 

5* 


106  HARRY    U ARSON. 

trivances !  such  intrigues,  and  love-making,  and  billing,  and 
cooing,  and  whispering!  and  such  conspiracies  against  old 
dad !  .  Not  that  I  believe  little  Kate  had  any  thing  to  do  with 
it.  Oh,  no  !  but  she's  young,  and  Ned  Somers  is  —  no  mat- 
te'r  what.  /  know  what  he  is ;  and  others  know  too.  But  I 
never  make  mischief,  nor  meddle.  /  say  nothing  against 
him.  No !  he 's  a  noble  fellow  —  very  noble ;  so  open  and 
candid  !  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  I  hope  you  won't  go  to  your  house 
some  day  and  find  your  daughter  flown,  and  with  him;  and 
I  hope  if  it  is  with  him  it  will  be  to  the  church ;  that 's  all  — 
that 's  all.  Good-bye,  Jacob  ;  I  'm  in  a  vast  hurry,'  said  he, 
bustling  off,  as  if  recollecting  some  important  engagement. 
'  Dear  me  !  I  've  lost  a  world  of  time.  Good-bye,  good-bye. 
If  you  should  happen  to  get  home  soon,  you'll  surprise  them 
both.' 

As  he  went  off,  he  turned  back,  and  muttered  to  himself. 
'  I  've  sown  the  seeds  of  suspicion  in  his  heart  against  his 
own  child.  Let  him  hate  her,  if  needs  be ;  and  let  him  think 
her  the  vilest  of  the  vile.  It  will  favor  my  ends.' 

The  old  man  stood  for  a  long  time  where  Rust  had  left 
him,  with  his  hands  clasped,  looking  about  him  with  a  be 
wildered  air.  lie  seemed  like  one  stunned  by  some  heavy 
and  overpowering  blow.  He  took  one  or  two  steps,  tottering 
as  he  went,  and  then  leaned  feebly  against  a  house.  The 
words  '  my  child  !  my  child  ! '  once  or  twice  escaped  him,  in 
a  low,  moaning  tone ;  he  passed  his  fingers  -over  the  buttons 
of  his  coat,  unconsciously  twitching  and  jerking  them ;  he 
looked  on  the  pavement,  and  seemed  endeavoring  to  regain 
some  train  of  thought  which  had  passed  through  his  mind  ; 
and  then  shaking  his  head,  as  if  disappointed  at  his  want  or 
success,  scarcely  knowing  what  he  did,  he  commenced  count- 
Eg  the  cracks  in  the  bricks.  A  few  small  stones  were  lying 
jn  the  side-walk,  and  he  idly  kicked  them  off,  one  by  one: 


HARRY    H ARSON.  107 

his  thoughts  wandered  from  one  object  to  another,  until  he 
began  to  watch  the  smoke,  as  it  escaped  from  the  chimneys 
of  the  houses  opposite.  Some  was  dark  and  brown,  and 
some  blue  and  bright,  and  circled  upward,  until  it  and  the 
sky  became  one ;  while  the  other  floated  off,  a  dark,  lowering 
mass,  as  long  as  he  could  see  it.  People  were  passing  in 
various  directions  ;  and  he  wondered  whither  they  were  going, 
and  how  many  there  were ;  he  commenced  counting  them ; 
he  made  a  mistake ;  he  had  got  to  twenty,  when  three  or 
four  passed  together  ;  so  he  struck  the  score  from  his  mem 
ory,  and  commenced  afresh.  At  last  a  man  jostled  him,  as 
he  stood,  and  told  him  to  get  out  of  the  way,  and  not  to  oc 
cupy  the  whole  walk.  This  recalled  him  to  himself;  and  he 
resumed  his  course.  As  he  went  on,  the  recollection  of  what 
Rust  had  told  him  again  crossed  his  mind ;  and  his  feeling  ot 
indifference  gave  place  to  one  of  fierce  excitement.  With 
his  teeth  hard  set,  his  long  hair  streaming  in  the  wind,  his 
step  rapid,  yet  tottering  and  irregular,  and  with  an  expression 
of  intense  mental  anguish  on  every  line  of  his  face,  he  bent 
his  steps  toward  his  own  house.  It  was  a  bright  day,  and 
the  warm  sunshine  was  sleeping  on  roof  and  wall ;  on  cellar 
and  house-top,  warming  many  a  sad  heart ;  lighting  up  many 
a  heavy  eye,  and  calling  forth  all  that  is  happy  and  joyous 
in  earth  and  man.  Strange  was^t!  that  under  such  a  sky, 
with  such  a  glad  wrorld  about  him,  an  old  man,  hanging  over 
the  grave,  should  dare  to  utter  curses  and  imprecations 
against  his  fellow-man.  Yet  such  was  the  tenor  of  his 
words : 

*  Curses  on  them !  curses  on  them ! '  muttered  he  ;  '  the 
false  ones  !  When  I  was  striving  like  a  very  beast  of  bur 
den,  yielding  body  and  soul  to  torments,  for  her  sake,  to  play 
me  false!  It  was  bitter,  but  it  was  human.  Whenever 
troubles  gather  about  one's  path ;  when  he  is  blighted  and 


108  HARRY    H ARSON. 

crushed  to  the  earth ;  when  his  heart  is  bruised  and  bleed 
ing,  and  yearns  for  the  love  and  sympathy  of  those  about 
him  ;  when  a  mild  word,  a  kind  look,  are  of  more  worth  than 
gold  or  jewels,  then  friends  drop  off.  Suffering  and  trouble 
scatter  them  like  a  pestilence.  I  was  in  drivelling  dotage,  to 
think  that  she  would  be  aught  else  than  the  rest  of  them 
What  though  I  did  give  her  life,  and  fondle  her  on  my  knee 
in  infancy ;  and  hang  over  her  when  she  slept ;  and  pray, 
come  what  might  to  me,  that  she  might  be  happy  ?  What 
though  I  did  cherish  and  protect  her,  and  love  her,  when 
this  old  heart  was  warped  against  all  the  rest  of  the  world, 
until  every  fibre  of  it  was  entwined  with  hers  ;  until  every 
thought  was  for  her;  and  how  I  should  preserve  the 
accumulations  of  a  hard  life,  so  that  when  the  earth  covered 
me  she  might  live  luxuriously  ?  What  though  I  did  all  this  ? 
I  became  in  her  way ;  for  I  had  gold,  and  she  wanted  it ! 
That 's  it !  Oh  !  what  a  fool  I  was,'  continued  he,  bitterly, 
'to  imagine  that  she  would  prove  true,  when  all  others  have 
proved  false ;  and  that  gratitude  would  bind  her  to  me,  so 
that  when  I  should  become  decrepid,  and  could  not  totter 
about,  but  must  mope  out  the  remnant  of  my  life,  like 
a  chained  prisoner,  that  she  would  be  near  me,  with  her  bright 
face  and  cheerful  voice  ;  and  would  cheer  me  up ;  and  would 
tell  me  that  I  had  watched  over  her  childhood;  and  that  she 
loved  me  for  it.  Happy  dreams  they  were  ! '  said  he  mourn 
fully  ;  '  happy  dreams  !  Ah,  Kate  !  my  own  little  child !  you 
should  not  have  forgotten  your  old  father ;  indeed  you  should 
not.  But  no,  no  ! '  he  added,  checking  himself,  '  it  could  not 
have  been  she;  I  '11  not  believe  it.  It  was  not  she  —  poor 
child ;  she  never  did  harm  in  her  life.  She  was  always  good- 
tempered,  and  kind,  and  patient.  Oh,  no!  she  must  not 
leave  me  —  I  am  too  old  now  to  find  a  new  friend.  I  '11  beg 
her  to  stay  with  me  until  I  die.  I  '11  not  live  long,  to-trouble 


11 A  R  K  r    uARSO  N.  109 

her ;  and  perhaps  she  will  bear  with  me  till  then ;  she  must 
not  go ;  oh,  no  !  she  must  not.  Go?  muttered  he,  his  mood 
changing,  and  his  eyes  beginning  to  flash  ;  'go  where?  with 
Somers  ?  with  Somers  !  Can  it  be  that  he  has  been  all  this 
while  schemino-  to  rob  me  of  her?  Go  with  Somers?  with 

£5 

Ned  Somers  ?  He  said  he  hoped  it  would  be  to  the  church. 
What  did  he  mean?  what  could  he  mean?  But  I'll  soon 
know,'  said  he,  hurrying  on  ;  'I  '11  soon  know  ! ' 

Impetuous  the  old  man  had  always  been,  though  age  had 
in  a  great  measure  subdued  his  spirit ;  but  now  the  recollec 
tion  of  Rust's  words  lashed  him  into  fury ;  and  when  he 
reached  his  house,  he  dashed  into  it  without  pausing  to  reflect 
what  he  should  say,  or  how  he  should  act.  He  flung  the 
door  open  ;  and,  as  if  to  justify  the  very  tale  of  Michael 
Rust,  there  stood  Kate,  with  her  hand  in  Ned's,  and  her  head 
resting  against  his  shoulder. 

*  Ha !  ha !  taken !  taken ! '  shouted  the  old  man,  with  a 
kind  of  frenzied  glee  ;  '  taken  in  the  very  act !  Plotting 
treason  !  plotting  treason  !  It  was  a  glorious  conspiracy,  was 
it  not,  Ned  Somers  ?  to  steal  into  a  man's  house,  and,  under 
the  garb  of  friendship,  to  endeavor  to  wean  away  his  child, 
and  to  carry  her  off  ?  Oh  !  how  some  men  can  fawn  !  what 
open,  frank  faces  they  can  have  !  how  they  can  talk  of  love, 
and  honor,  and  generosity  !  what  friendly  smiles  they  can 
wear !  And  yet,  Ned,  these  very  men  are  lying,  and  all  the 
while  the  Devil  is  throned  in  their  hearts,  and  sits  grinning 
there ! ' 

Somers  stared  at  him  in  undisguised  astonishment ;  for  he 
was  fully  convinced  that  the  old  man  had  lost  his  reason  ; 
and  under  that  impression  he  placed  himself  between  him 
and  Kate,  lest  in  his  fury  he  should  injure  her. 

This  movement  did  not  escape  Rhoneland.     *  Good  God  ! 


HO  HA  R  R  Y    il  A 

said  he,  raising  his  clasped  hands  to  heaven,  'he  already 
keeps  me  from  my  child  !  Shall  this  be  ?  Out  of  my  house  ! 
out  of  my  house  ! '  shouted  he,  advancing  toward  him,  and 
shaking  his  fist. 

'  Never,'  returned  Sorners,  '  until  I  am  convinced  that  you 
will  not  harm  your  daughter.' 

'/  harm  her  !  /  harm  her  ! '  repeated  Rhoneland.  '  God 
of  heaven  !  what  black-hearted  villains  there  are  !  The  very 
man  who  would  by  false  oaths  and  protestations  decoy  her 
from  her  own  hearth,  and  when  she  had  deserted  all  for  him, 
would  cast  her  off,  a  branded  thing,  without  name  or  fame, 
he,  he  talks  of  protecting  her  from  her  own  father  !  Nr<  no, 
Ned  Somers,'  he  said,  in  a  voice  of  bitter  calmness,  *  you  may 
go  ;  I  '11  not  harm  her.' 

His  words  had  given  Somers  a  clue  to  the  cause  of  his 
conduct ;  and  pale  as  death,  but  with  a  calm  face,  he  said, 
*  Will  you  hear  me,  Mr  Rhoneland  ? ' 

'  Hear  you  !  Have  I  not  heard  you  and  believed  you  ? 
Ay,  I  have.  I  was  in  my  dotage ;  and  you  too,  Kate,  you 
listened  and  believed,  did  you  not?  Ah!  girl,  girl!  a  ser 
pent  charmed  in  Eden  !  But  it 's  past  now.  I  '11  love  you, 
Kate,  though  he  do  not.  They  said  that  gold  was  my  God. 
They  said  that  for  gold  I  would  barter  every  thing ;  but 
they  did  n't  know  me.  He  told  you  so  too,  Kate,  did  he 
not  ?  —  he  told  you  that  I  'd  sell  you  for  that.  He  whis 
pered  tales  of  your  father  in  your  ear,  until  you  became  a 
renegade  at  heart ;  and  you,  my  own  child,  plotted  with  a 
stranger  to  desert  your  home.  He  told  you  that  he  loved 
you ;  and  would  make  you  his  wife  ;  did  he,  not  ?  Poor 
child !  poor  child  ?  God  help  her !  she  knows  no  better  ! 
Ned  Somers,'  said  he,  turning  to  the  young  man,  '  you  must 
leave  this  house,  and  come  here  no  more.  My  daughter  is 


HA  R  R  Y    11  ARSON.  1 1 1 

all  that  I  have  to  bind  me  to  life,  and  I  cannot  spare  her. 
You  must  go  elsewhere  to  spread  your  web.  For  your  vile 
designs  upon  her,  may  God  forgive  you  —  I  never  will ! ' 

'  Jacob  Rhoneland,'  said  Somers, '  I  have  borne  more  from 
you  than  I  would  have  taken  from  any  other  man.  You 
are  not  now  in  a  state  to  listen  to  reason,  nor  perhaps  am  I 
able  just  now  to  offer  it;  but  you  have  said  that  of  me 
which  I  should  be  false  to  myself  not  to  answer ;  and  which 
I  declare  to  be  utterly  untrue.  I  do  love  your  daughter  ; 
and  love  her  well  and  honestly ;  and  I  would  like  to  see  the 
man,  excepting  yourself,  who  dare  say  otherwise.  Some 
one  has  been  lying  to  you;  and  can  I  but  find  him  out,  he 
shall  pay  for  it.  You,  Kate,  do  n't  believe  it  ? '  said-  he, 
turning  to  the  girl,  who  stood  by,  with  blanched  cheek,  and 
the  tears  in  her  eyes. 

'  No,  no,  Ned;  I  do  not ;  nor  will  father,  when  he 's  calm,' 
said  she,  taking  the  old  man's  hand.  '  Some  person  has 
been  slandering  you  to  him  ;  but  he  '11  get  over  it  soon.' 

Rhoneland  drew  his  hand  hastily  from  her,  and  turning 
to  Ned,  said :  '  Leave  the  house  !  I  have  already  told  you 
to  do  so.  Will  you  wait  till  you  are  thrust  from  it  ?  Begone, 
I  say!' 

'  Go,  go,  Ned,  for  my  sake ! '  exclaimed  Kate,  pushing 
him  toward  the  door.  '  He  '11  never  be  right  while  you  are 
here.  Go,  dear  Ned,  go.7 

*  I  can  't  go   before   I  've  told  your  father  how  matters 
stand.' 

'  No  matter  for  that  now,'  said  Kate  earnestly ;  *  I  '11 
make  all  right ;  go,  go ! ' 

Half  pushing,  half  persuading  him,  she  finally  induced 
him  to  leave  the  house. 

*  Friend  Ned  seems  in  a  hurry,'  said  a  voice  in  his  ear, 
when  he  had  gone  but  a  hundred  yards.     *  Has  sweet  little 


112  HARRY    HA  RSO  N. 

Kate  been  unkind  ?  Has  she  told  you  that  she  loved 
Michael  Rust  ?  Ha !  ha !  Or  has  old  Dad  been  crabbed  ? 
Ha !  ha !  A  queer  old  boy  that  -dad  of  hers,  Ned  ;  a  queer 
old  fellow ;  full  of  freaks  !  Do  you  know  he  hinted  to  me 
that  he  thought  you  had  an  eye  on  Kate,  and  wanted  to 
run  off  with  her  ?  Was  n't  that  a  good  one,  Ned  ?  Ha ! 
ha  !  It  makes  me  laugh  to  think  of  it.  He  did  n't  know 
that  Michael  Rust  was  the  fellow ;  that  he  was  the  one  to 
guard  against.' 

'I  believe  you,'  said  Ned, bitterly ;  'I  believe  that  Michael 
Rust  is  the  one  to  guard  against;  and  Jacob  Rhoneland  will 
find  it  out  some  day.' 

'  To  be  sure  he  will,  to  be  sure  he  will ! '  said  Rust.  *  Yet 
the  old  fellow  was  afraid  of  you  ;  you,  Ned,  you  !  He  even 
hinted  that  your  purposes  were  not  honest.  Some  kind 
friend  has  been  at  work  and  filled  his  head  with  queer  tales 
about  you.  And  all  the  time  he  did  n't  dream  of  me  ;  and 
did  n't  know  that  it  was  me  that  Kate  was  dying  for.  He  '11 
find  me  his  son-in-law  yet,  some  day.  I  wish  you  would 
keep  away  from,  his  house,  Ned.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  'm 
jealous  of  you.  For  in  confidence,  Ned,  I  do  believe  that 
Kate  is  a  little  of  a  coquette  at  heart ;  and  I  have  often 
said  to  myself :  Although  I  see  nothing  particularly  kind  in 
her  manner  to  Somers,  who  knows  what  it  may  be  when 
they  're  alone  ?  I  'm  sure  there  's  nothing  in  her  actions, 
when  others  are  present,  to  betray  how  kind  and  coaxing 
she  is  to  me  when  we  are  alone.  Ah !  Ned ;  p1*^  is  all 
tenderness  in  our  moments  of  privacy.  The  las*  L-/nie  ^  »aw 
her  she  said  that  she  respected  you,  but  swore  she  did  not 
care  the  snap  of  a  finger  for  you.  God  bless  her  for  that ! 
how  happy  it  made  me !  how  charming  she  looked  !  Ah  ! 
she 's  an  angel !  upon  my  soul  I  must  go  back  and  kiss 
her!' 


HARRY    HARSON.  113 

Somers,  chafing  with  fury  at  being  thus  beset,  had  walked 
on  with  a  rapid  step,  while  Rust  kept  pace  with  him,  hissing 
his  words  in  his  ear ;  but  as  he  uttered  the  last  sentence, 
Rust  turned  away.  As  he  did  so,  Somers  caught  him  by 
the  collar,  and  drawing  him  close  to  him,  said  : 

'  Michael  Rust,  I  know  that  every  word  you  have  just 
uttered  is  false,  and  a  vile  slander  against  as  noble  a  girl  as 
ever  lived.  I  will  not  punish  you  as  you  deserve,  because  I 
promised  Kate  Rhoneland  that  I  would  not ;  but  before  you 
go  let  me  tell  you  this :  A  greater  liar  and  villain  than 
yourself  never  walked.  Things  are  oozing  out  about  you, 
which  will  make  this  city  ring  with  your  infamy.  Tongues 
which  have  been  tied  by  gold  have  found  fear  more  power 
ful,  and  have  spoken  ;  and  there  are  those  tracking  out 
Michael  Rust's  course  for  the  last  few  years,  who  will  not 
let  him  rest  till  they  have  run  him  down.  You  're  fond  of 
figures  of  speech ;  there 's  one.  Now  go  and  kiss  Kate 
Rhoneland  with  what  satisfaction  you  may  ! ' 

He  flung  him  from  him ;  and,  without  looking  at  him 
turned  off  into  a  bye-street. 


114  HARRY    HARSON. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE  few  words  uttered  by  Somers,  as  he  flung  his  tor- 
1  mentor  from  him,  threw  Michael  Rust  into  a  fit  of  profound 
thought.  Pondering  over  his  schemes,  and  wondering 
which  particular  one  was  about  to  fail ;  and  yet  so  confident 
in  his  own  sagacity  and  clear-sightedness,  that  he  felt  dis 
posed  to  think  failure  impossible  ;  he  took  his  way  to  his 
own  house.  There,  assuming  the  same  costume  which  he 
usually  wore  when  in  his  office,  he  locked  the  door  of  his 
room,  put  the  key  in  his  pocket,  and  sallied  into  the  street. 

'  If  what  he  said  be  true,'  muttered  he,  '  there  must  be  a 
traitor.  Him  I  can  put  my  finger  on  ;  and  first  of  all  him 
will  I  punish  ;  and  now  for  a  trial  of  that  new  animal, 
Kornicker.  Bah ! ' 

Had  Mr.  Kornicker  overheard  this  allusion  to  himself,  it 
is  scarcely  probable  that  his  gratification  would  have  been 
extreme ;  for  admitting  himself  and  all  the  rest  of  the 
human  race,  zoologically  speaking,  to  be  animals;  even 
then,  there  was  much  in  the  tone  of  Michael  Rust  to  indi 
cate  that  Mr.  Kornicker  belonged  to  a  genus  distinct  from 
and  inferior  to  the  human  species  in  general ;  and  this  was 
a  position  against  which  there  is  little  doubt  that  Mr.  Kor 
nicker  would  have  contended  manfully.  Without  pausing 
to  reflect  upon  the  justice  or  injustice  of  his  observation, 
and  in  truth  forgetting  that  he  had  made  it,  Rust  took  the 
shortest  route  to  his  office,  whither,  to  explain  what  will 
follow,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  precede  him. 

From  the  day  on  which  he  had  taken  Kornicker  into  his 
service,  he  had  not  been  at  his  office,  nor  had  he  met  his 


HARRY    HARSON.  115 

new  clerk,  or  seen  him,  or  heard  from  him.  In  truth,  many 
other  matters  pressing  upon  him,  prevented  his  calling 
there ;  and  although  he  did  not  forget  that  Kornicker  was 
almost  a  stranger  to  him,  for  he  forgot  nothing,  yet  know 
ing  that  he  could  do  no  harm  where  he  was,  and  that  there 
was  little  to  embezzle  or  steal,  except  the  door-key,  he  in  a 
great  measure  dismissed  him  from  his  thoughts,  until  he 
required  his  services.  Although  this  matter  dwelt  thus 
lightly  on  the  mind  of  Rust,  it  was  the  source  of  much 
profound  thought  and  intense  abstraction  to  Kornicker. 
He  had  endeavored  to  learn  something  respecting  Rust ; 
and  even  formed  an  intimacy  with  the  'desperadoes,'  for 
the  purpose  ;  and  what  little  he  learned  there  certainly 
did  not  make  him  more  at  ease ;  for  even  the  most  des 
perate  of  them  shook  his  head,  and  gave  him  a  friendly 
caution  '  to  look  sharp ; '  at  the  same  time  adding,  that 
though  Rust  was  a  little  man,  '  he  was  a  bitter  root.'  It 
was  observed,  however,  that  by  degrees  Mr.  Kornicker's 
abstraction  grew  less  and  less,  and  his  spirits  rose.  At 
times,  unnatural  sounds  and  loud  laughter,  and  even  songs, 
were  heard  to  emanate  from  Rust's  hitherto  silent  room ; 
and  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  dim  figures  were  seen 
skulking  to  and  from  it ;  and  in  the  day-time,  shabby-gen 
teel  men  loitered  carelessly  through  the  entry,  and  after 
listening  at  the  key-hole,  gave  a  shrill  whistle,  which  being 
answered  from  within,  they  dove  into  the  room,  and  disap 
peared.  At  times,  too,  the  clinking  of  knives  and  forks 
against  crockery  was  heard  from  within ;  and  on  such  oc 
casions,  the  phantom  of  the  small  boy  with  a  white  cap  on 
his  head  was  seen  to  flit  up  and  down  the  stairs  with  a  dish 
in  his  hand,  or  a  bottle  under  his  arm,  always  vanishing  at 
Rust's  office,  or  disappearing  in  the  bowels  of  the  refectory 
below. 


116  HARRY    HAR80N. 

But  notwithstanding  all  these  symptoms  of  returning 
vivacity,  Mr.  Kornicker's  mind  was  far  from  tranquil  on  the 
subject  of  the  mystery  of  his  present  situation. 

'  Fallen  into  the  toils  of  a  little  old  man,'  said  he  to  him 
self,  as  he  sat,  on  the  morning  on  which  we  open  this  chap 
ter,  in  front  of  the  fire,  with  his  legs  stretched  at  full  length 
in  front  of  him  ;  the  toe  of  one  foot  supporting  the  heel  of 
the  other ;  '  of  a  little  old  man,  with  a  red  handkerchief 
tied  round  his  head,  a  broad-brimmed  hat  on  the  top  of  that, 
and  a  camlet  cloak  over  his  shoulders.  It 's  too  deep  for 
me.  I  can't  fathom  it.  The  victim  of  a  hideous  compact, 
whereby  I  am  decoyed  into  his  service,  to  sit  in  a  room 
eight  feet  by  twelve,  on  a  yellow  wooden  chair  with  four 
legs,  and  a  back  made  of  the  most  uneasy  kind  of  timber, 
probably  lignum-vitse,  and  yet  with  no  cushion ;  to  wait 
for  people  who  never  come,  to  eat  without  drinking,  and 
to  submit  to  divers  other  small  inconveniences ;  such  as 
bringing  up  coal  in  a  pail  without  a  handle  ;  kindling 
my  own  fire  with  damp  wood,  and  snuffing  sixpenny  dips 
with  a  pair  of  tongs,  one  of  whose  feet  is  absent.  There 's 
something  very  mysterious  about  it  —  very.  All  I  hope 
is,  that  this  Mr.  Rust  is  not  the  'Old  Boy.'  That's  all. 
I  do  n't  wish  to  speak  disrespectfully  of  him  :  but  I  do 
sincerely  hope,  for  his  own  sake,  that  he  isn't  the  'Old 
Boy.'  It  would  be  bad  for  him  if  he  were.  As  for  myself,' 
said  he,  drawing  out  his  snuff-box,  and  snuffing  with  great 
absence  of  mind,  '  it  makes  no  difference  :  I  'm  used  to 
it.  I  Ve  been  brought  up  under  trying  circumstances.  I 
slept  in  a  grocery  sand-bin  on  the  north  corner  of  a  street 
for  a  week.  Not  such  a  bad  place  neither  in  warm  weather ; 
but  I  was  ousted  by  a  tipsy  gentleman,  whom  I  found  there 
one  night.  The  tipsy  gentleman  was  sick,  too  ;  and  when 
tipsy  gentlemen  get  sick,  most  people  know  what  follows. 


HARRy    H  ARSON.  117 

The  .place  was  untenantable  afterward.  But  that  was 
nothing  to  this ;  positively  nothing.  I  knew  what  I  was 
about  then ;  now  I  do  n't.  I  never  met  but  one  case  in 
point  with  mine.  It  was  that  of  the  fellow  in  the  Arabian 
Nights,  who  fell  into  the  clutches  of  forty  unknown  women, 
and  remained  with  them,  feasted  with  them,  and  all  that  — 
they  paying  the  shot,  as  in  my  case  —  until  one  morning 
they  all  came  weeping,  and  wailing,  and  gnashing  their 
teeth,  to  tell  him  that  they  were  off  in  the  first  boat ;  and 
that  he  must  stay  there  till  they  came  back,  and  might  do 
whatever  he  liked,  and  go  wherever  he  chose,  except  into 
the  stable.  There's  no  stable  here,  but  I  am  restricted  in 
liquors ;  that  carries  out  the  parallel.  The  housekeepei 
handed  him  the  keys,  and  he  went  jingling  about,  for  forty 
days,  with  the  keys  hanging  at  his  button-hole ;  his  hands 
in  his  breeches  pockets,  whistling  and  yawning ;  locking 
and  unlocking  doors,  and  smelling  flowers ;  eating  apples 
and  pea-nuts,  I  suppose,  although  they  were  not  specially 
mentioned,  and  poking  his  nose  into  all  the  odd  corners. 
There  the  parallel  fits  again ;  only  it 's  soon  got  through 
with  here,  seeing  that  there 's  only  under  the  table  and  up 
the  chimney  to  look,  and  I  Ve  done  both.  No  matter ;  that 
chap  wound  up  by  having  an  eye  knocked  out ;  and  I  hope 
the  joke  won't  be  carried  so  far  with  me.' 

Mr.  Kornicker  cut  short  his  reflections  and  remarks ;  and 
sitting  upright,  pulled  up  his  vest,  and  felt  in  the  neighbor 
hood  of  his  watch-pocket.  Suddenly  recollecting,  however, 
that  he  had  left  the  article  which  belonged  there  in  the  safe 
keeping  of  a  friend,  who,  with  a  kindness  worthy  of  all 
praise,  not  only  took  charge  of  it  for  him,  but  actually  paid 
for  the  privilege  of  doing  so;  he  pulled  down  his  vest  and 
said,  '  he  supposed  that  it  was  all  right,  and  that  they  would 
be  here  presently.'  If  his  last  remark  applied  to  guests 


113  HARRY    HARSON. 

whom  lie  expected,  he  was  apparently  correct  in  his  sur 
mise ;  for  he  had  scarcely  uttered  it,  when  there  was  a 
single  sharp  knock  at  the  door. 

*  Who 's  there  ? '  demanded  he,  without  starting. 

*  Open  the  door ! '  replied  a  voice  from  without. 

'  It  is  n't  locked,'  said  Kornicker ;  and  it  might  have  been 
observed  that  there  was  a  remarkable  abatement  of  firmness 
in  the  tone  of  his  reply. 

In  pursuance  of  this  hint,  the  door  opened,  and  in  walked 
Michael  Rust ! 

Mr.  Kornicker,  in  the  course  of  his  checkered  existence, 
had  frequently  found  himself  in  positions  in  which  he  was 
taken  dreadfully  aback ;  but  it  is  doubtful  whether  he  had 
ever  detected  himself  in  a  situation  which  threw  him  into  a 
state  of  such  utter  and  helpless  consternation  as  his  present 
one ;  for,  relying  on  the  continued  absence  of  his  employer, 
he  had  that  day  invited  four  particular  friends  '  to  drop  into 
the  office,'  as  he  had  carelessly  observed,  *  to  take  pot- 
luck  with  him  —  a  trifle  or  so ;  any  thing  that  should  turn 
up.'  This  was  the  very  hour  :  and  here  was  Rust. 

He  made  an  unsuccessful  effort  to  welcome  his  visitor. 
He  got  up,  muttered  something  about '  unexpected  pleasure,' 
looked  vacantly  round  the  room  ;  rubbed  his  hands  one  over 
the  other ;  made  an  attempt  to  smile,  which  terminated  in 
a  convulsive  twitching  of  his  lips;  and  finally  sat  down, 
with  his  intellect  completely  bewildered,  and  without  having 
succeeded  in  any  thing,  except  exciting  the  surprise  and 
suspicion  of  Rust. 

'  There'll  be  hell  to  pay  ! '  said  Kornicker,  communing  with 
his  own  thoughts,  *  there  positively  will ;  I  know  it.  There 
comes  one  of  them,'  thought  he,  as  a  step  deliberately 
ascended  the  stair  ;  but  it  passed  to  the  flight  above. 
There  was  some  relief  in  that ;  but  it  was  only  a  respite, 


HARRY    HARSON.  119 

Come  they  must !  He  wrung  his  hands,  snuffed  spasmodic 
ally,  returned  the  box  to  his  pocket,  and  took  it  out  again 
instantly.  '  What  shall  I  do  ?  what  shall  I  do  ?  what  the 
DEVIL  shall  I  do  ? '  exclaimed  he  mentally. 

Rust  had  spoken  to  him  three  times,  but  he  had  not 
heard  a  word.  '  This  is  all  very  strange,'  muttered  Rust, 
looking  about  the  room  as  if  to  seek  some  explanation. 
The  first  thing  which  attracted  his  attention  was  the  fact 
that  the  two  chairs  which  he  had  left  in  the  office  had,  by 
some  odd  process  of  multiplication,  increased  to  six. 

'  There  are  six  chairs  here,'  said  he,  addressing  his  clerk, 
in  a  stern  tone  ;  '  where  did  they  come  from  ?  Whom  are 
they  for  ? ' 

Mr.  Kornicker  looked  round,  and  smiled  helplessly. 
'  Six  ?  Oh,  ay ;  one,  two,  three,  four,  five  —  six.  So  there 
are  six,'  said  he. 

'Well?' 

'Well;  oh,  well?  Oh,  yes,  quite  well,  I  thank  you; 
very  well,'  said  Mr.  Kornicker,  whose  ideas  were  rapidly 
becoming  of  a  very  composite  order,  and  who  caught  only 
the  monosyllable,  without  exactly  taking  in  its  meaning. 

'  I  'm  afraid  that  Mr.  Kornicker  is  lonely  in  the  absence 
of  his  friend  Michael  Rust,'  said  Rust,  with  his  usual  sneer  ; 
'  that  he  finds  this  dull,  dingy  room  too  dreary  for  him  ; 
and  has  invited  six  chairs  to  keep  him  company,  and  cheer 
up  his  spirits.' 

Kornicker  made  no  reply  ;  he  could  not,  for  another  step 
was  ascending  the  stairs.  This  time  it  paused  at  the  door, 
as  if  the  visitor  were  adjusting  his  collar,  and  pulling  down 
his  wristbands ;  after  which,  a  thinnish  gentleman,  dressed 
in  a  green  coat,  with  wide  skirts,  white  at  the  elbows,  and 
polished  at  the  collar,  and  pantaloons  tightly  strapped  down 


120  HARRY   HARSON. 

gray  and  glistening  at  the  knees,  and  not  a  little  torn  at  the 
pockets,  sauntered  carelessly  in. 

*  Servant,  Sir ;  servant,  Sir ; '  said   he,  nodding  to  Rust 
with  a  familiar  air,  and  swinging  in  his  hand  a  particularly 
dingy  handkerchief.     *  This,  I  suppose,  is  one  of  us.     He  's 
an  old  chip ;  but  he  may  be  come,  of  a  prime  block.'     The 
latter  part  of  this   remark   was   addressed   to  Kornicker ; 
and  terminated   with  a   request   that   he   would   '  do  the 
genteel,  and  present  him  to  his  friend.'     Kornicker.  however, 
sat  stock-still,  looking  in  the  grate,  and  evincing  no  signs  of 
life,  except  by  breathing  rather  hard. 

'  Ha  !  ha  !  Ned's  gone  again  —  brown  study  ! '  said  the 
gentleman,  winking  at  Rust,  touching  his  own  forehead,  and 
at  the  same  time  extending  his  hand.  *  It 's  his  way.  1 
suppose  you  're  one  of  our  social  little  dinner-party  to-day  ? ' 

4  Yes,  oh,  yes ! '  said  Rust,  quietly ;  for  these  words,  and 
the  six  chairs,  afforded  an  immediate  solution  of  his  diffi 
culties.  '  I  dropped  in ;  and  being  intimate  with  Ned, 
thought  I  'd  stop.' 

*  So  I  supposed,'  said  the  other.     l  As  Ned  won't,  I  will. 
My  name 's  Sludge,  Mr.  Thomas  Sludge,'  said  he,  extending 
his  hand  to  Rust.     'Happy  to  make   your  acquaintance. 
Your  name  is  —  eh  ?  eh  3 ' 

4  Quite  a  common  one  ;  Smith  ;  Mr.  Smith,'  replied  Rust. 

*  Ha  !  ha !  you  're  joking ;  but  no  —  you  do  n't  belong  to 
that   numerous   family,   though,   do  you  ?      Eh  ?   well ;   I 
thought  from  the  cut  of  your  eye  that  you  were  an  old 
quiz,  and  supposed,  of  course,  you  were  joking.' 

At  the  announcement  of  the  name,  Kornicker  looked  up 
with  a  vague  hope  that  he  might  have  been  mistaken  ;  and 
that  it  was  not  Michael  Rust  who  had  thus  interrupted  his 
plans ;  but  there  he  stood.  '  He 's  a  dreadful  reality  ! ' 
thought  he,  shaking  his  head.  '  He  's  no  Smith.  He 's 


HARRY    H ARSON,  121 

Michael  Rust.  God  knows  who  lie  '11  be  next,  and  what 
he  '11  do,  for  I  do  n't.  If  they  come,  I  pity  them.  That 's 
all  I  can  do  for  them  ;  they  must  trust  to  their  own  re 
sources,  and  the  care  of  an  overruling  Providence.  I  sup 
pose  they  '11  survive  it.  If  they  don  't,  Rust  will  have  to 
bury  them.' 

He  was  too  much  overwhelmed  by  what  had  already 
occurred,  and  by  his  anticipations  of  what  was  to  come, 
to  attempt  to  extricate  himself  from  his  difficulties.  They 
had  fallen  upon  him  with  a  weight  which  was  insupportable ; 
and  now,  a  ton  or  two  more  would  make  but  little  difference. 
They  might  mash  him  flat,  if  they  chose  ;  he  should  not 
resist  them. 

In  the  mean  time,  Rust  and  Sludge  conversed  on  all 
topics,  cracked  their  jokes,  and  were  exceedingly -merry  on 
the  subject  of  Kornicker  and  his  employer,  and  of  the  tricks 
which  were  played  upon  that  respectable  personage. 

*  Ha !  ha ! '  said  Mr.  Sludge,  '  would  n't  he  kick  up  a 
rumpus  if  he  knew  what  was  going  on  here  ? '  The  very 
idea  of  Rust  arriving  at  this  stage  of  knowledge  seemed  so 
absurd,  that  they  laughed  until  the  room  rang. 

It  was  not  long  before  their  number  was  increased  by  the 
addition  of  a  short,  square-built  gentleman,  with  round 
cheeks  and  green  spectacles,  who  was  introduced  by  Mr. 
Sludge  as  '  Mr.  Steekup,  one  of  us.'  He  was  followed  by  a 
thin  fellow,  in  shabby  attire,  and  with  a  very  red  nose.  This 
latter  person  was  supported  by  a  friend  with  very  largo 
whiskers,  and  a  shaggy  great-coat  with  huge  pockets.  The 
first  of  these  two  was  presented  as  Mr.  Gunter,  and  the  last 
as  Mr.  Buzby.  Each  of  these  gentlemen,  as  they  re 
spectively  entered,  walked  up  to  Kornicker,  and  slapped  him 
on  the  shoulder,  at  the  same  time  saluting  him  with  the 
appellation  of  *  my  tulip,'  or  '  my  old  buck,'  or  *  my  sodger,' 

6 


1^2  HARRY    EARS  ON. 

or  some  other  epithet  of  an  equally  friendly  character ;  tc 
all  of  which  they  received  not  a  word  in  reply.  But  though 
Kornicker's  bodily  functions  were  suspended,  his  thoughts 
were  wonderfully  busy. 

He  felt  that  he  was  done  for ;  completely,  irremediably 
done  for.  He  had  an  earnest  wish,  coupled  with  a  hope,  a 
very  faint  hope  —  a  hope  so  vague  and  indefinable  that  it 
seemed  but  the  phantom  of  one  —  that  his  guests  wrould 
be  suddenly  seized  with  convulsions  of  an  aggravated  cha 
racter,  and  die  on  the  spot,  or  jump  out  of  the  window,  or 
bolt  up  the  chimney,  or  cut  each  other's  throats,  or  melt 
into  air.  He  did  not  care  what,  or  which,  or  how,  or  when, 
or  where.  All  his  thoughts  and  wishes  tended  to  one  par 
ticular  end ;  that  was,  their  abrupt  departure,  in  some  sudden 
and  decisive  manner.  But  they  evinced  no  disposition  to 
avail  themselves  of  either  means  of  getting  out  of  his  way, 
of  which  he  left  them  so  liberal  a  choice.  And  to  increase 
his  misery,  amidst  them  all  sat  Rust,  with  his  head  bound 
in  his  red  silk  handkerchief,  bowing  and  smirking,  and 
passing  himself  off  as  one  of  themselves ;  drawing  out 
their  secrets,  and  quizzing  old  Rust,  and  occasionally  casting 
on  his  clerk  an  eye  that  seemed  red-hot ;  cracking  double- 
sided  jokes,  which  made  them  laugh,  and  took  the  skin  off 
him  ;  and  calling  him  *  Ned,'  and  asking  why  he  was  dull, 
and  why  he  didn't  make  himself  at  home  as  he  did ;  and 
whether  he  did  n't  think  that  old  Rust  would  make  a  '  flare 
up,'  if  he  should  happen  to  drop  in ;  and  why  he  did  n't 
ask  old  Rust  to  his  dinners  sometimes ;  and  all  in  so  plea 
sant  a  tone,  that  the  guests  swore  he  was  a  diamond  of  the 
first  water,  and  Mr.  Sludge  hugged  him  on  the  spot. 

Mr.  Kornicker  wondered  if  he  were  not  dreaming ;  and 
whether  Rust  was  in  reality  there,  and  whether  he  \  imself 
was  not  sitting  in  front  of  the  fire,  sound  asleep.  I  would 


HARRY    If  ARSON.  123 

be  pleasant  to  wake  up  and  find  it  so  ;  but  no,  it  could  not 
be  ;  people  in  dreams  did  n't  laugh  like  these  fellows.  How 
could  they  laugh  as  they  did,  when  he  was  in  such  a  state  ! 
How  little  they  understood  the  game  that  was  going  on  ! 
How  they  'd  alter  their  tone,  if  they  did  !  It  was  ridiculous ; 
it  was  exceedingly  ridiculous.  He  ought  to  laugh  ;  he  felt 
that  he  ought ;  but  he  would  n't  yet ;  the  dinner  was  to 
come,  and  perhaps  he  might  then ;  he  did  n't  know ;  he 
could  n't  say  ;  he  'd  see  about  it.  Hark  !  There  was  a 
thump  against  the  wall  below,  and  a  jingling  of  spoons,  and 
knives  and  forks,  against  crockery.  Now  for  it !  Another 
thump ;  another,  accompanied  by  another  jingle.  He 
wondered  whether  the  boy  had  spilt  the  gravy.  He  hoped 
he  had  n't ;  but  supposed  he  had.  It  made  no  difference. 
He  wondered  whether  he  'd  brought  the  brandy ;  supposed 
he  had;  of  course  he  had.  It  only  wanted  that  to  damn 

him  !  and  of  course  he  would  be  d d.     He  always  had 

been,  and  always  would  be ;  it  was  his  luck.  The  person 
who  was  bringing  the  dinner  stumbled  again ;  but  he  did  n't 
fall.  '  No  such  good  luck  !  If  he  had  fallen,  if  he  had  only 
fallen,  and  broken  his  neck,  or  smashed  the  dinner,  or  done 
any  thing  to  prevent  his  reaching  that  door ;  but  no ;  he  was 
too  sure-footed  for  that ;  any  other  boy  would  have  done  so ; 
but  he  did  n't.  He  reached  the  door,  and  saluted  it  with  a 
hearty  kick;  at  the  same  time  informing  the  company  that 
if  they  were  hungry,  they  'd  better  open  it,  as  his  hands 
were  full.  Kornicker  thought  that  his  hands  were  full  too ; 
and  even  had  a  faint  idea  of  laughing  at  this  play  upon 
words ;  but  the  inclination  passed  off  without  his  doing  so. 
Michael  Rust  opened  the  door,  and  the  boy  came  in.  Kor 
nicker  knew  it.  He  neither  looked  round  nor  moved ;  in 
fact,  he  closed  his  eyes ;  yet  he  knew  it  —  he  felt  it.  He 
had  an  innate  perception  that  the  boy  was  there,  within 


124  HARRY    H ARSON. 

three  feet  of  him,  bearing  in  his  hands  a  large  tray,  with 
dishes,  and  a  brandy-bottle  on  it.  And  now  the  clattering 
commenced  ;  and  he  was  conscious  that  the  boy  was  setting 
the  table.  What  would  be  the  end  of  all  this  ;  what  could 
be  ?  After  all,  perhaps  Michael  Rust  might  be  a  jolly  fellow, 
and  he  had  n't  found  it  out ;  and  perhaps  he  wanted  to  make 
him  at  home,  and  keep  up  the  joke,  to  save  his  feelings. 
He  would  be  glad  to  think  so  ;  but  he  did  n't ;  no,  no,  he 
was  certain  that  there  was  some  devil's  play  going  on. 

The  only  person  who  seemed  fully  to  appreciate  his  situa 
tion  was  the  boy  from  the  refectory,  who,  with  the  instinct 
peculiar  to  boys  of  that  class,  had  detected  it  on  the  spot ; 
and  abruptly  placing  a  dish  on  the  table,  retired  to  a  corner, 
with  his  face  to  the  wall,  where  he  laughed  violently  in  pri 
vate.  A  warning  look  from  Rust  put  a  stop  to  his  mirth  ; 
nor  did  he  again  indulge  in  it  until,  the  table  being  set,  and 
being  informed  that  the  guests  were  not  proud,  and  could 
wait  on  themselves,  he  retreated  to  the  entry,  where  he 
became  exceedingly  hilarious. 

*  Come,  Ned,  my  boy,  be  seated,'  said  Rust,  going  up  to 
Kornicker,  and  slapping  him  on  the  shoulder.  '  Wake  up  ; 
you  know  we  must  be  merry  sometimes ;  and  when  could 
there  be  a  better  opportunity  than  when  that  old  fool  Rast 
is  away  ?  He  '11  never  find  it  out.  Oh,  no ;  come,  come.' 

Kornicker  made  a  faint  effort  to  decline ;  but  a  look  from 
Rust  decided  him,  and  he  rose,  went  to  the  table,  and  me 
chanically  seated  himself  in  the  lap  of  Mr.  Sludge,  who  re 
minded  him  that  he  was  not  a  chair,  but  that  there  was  an 
article  of  that  description  vacant  at  his  side.  Kornicker 
smiled  feebly,  bowed  abstractedly,  and  took  a  seat.  He 
could  not  eat.  He  attempted  to  sip  a  littrc  Brandy,  but 
choked  in  swallowing  it.  The  dinner,  however,  went  on 
merrily.  The  knives  and  forks  clattered  against  the  plates ; 


HARRY    HARSON.  125 

the  roast  beef  grew  smaller  and  smaller ;  the  vegetables 
skipped  down  ,the  throats  of  the  guests  as  if  by  magic ;  and 
the  bottle  knew  no  rest.  In  fact,  the  only  article  on  the 
table  which  stood  its  ground,  was  a  sturdy  old  Dutchman 
in  a  cocked-hat,  who  had  been  metamorphosed  into  a  stone 
pitcher;  and  sat  there,  with  his  stomach  filled  with  cold 
water,  and  his  hands  clasped  over  it.  Lord !  how  merry 
they  were !  And  as  the  dinner  went  on,  and  the  bottle 
grew  low,  and  another  was  called  for  by  Rust,  how  uproar 
ious  they  became  !  How  they  sang,  and  howled,  and  hoot 
ed  !  What  a  din  they  created  in  the  building !  By  degrees 
the  entry  became  filled  with  the  'desperadoes'  from  the 
upper  stories,  who,  attracted  by  doings  kindred  to  their  own, 
accumulated  there  in  a  mass,  and  enlivened  the  performances 
by  howling  through  the  key-hole,  and  echoing  all  the  other 
cries  from  the  bottom  of  their  lungs.  But  loudest  and 
merriest,  and,  as  it  appeared  to  Kornicker,  most  diabolical 
of  all,  was  Michael  Rust ;  helping  every  one ;  passing  the 
bottle,  and  laughing,  and  yet  constantly  at  work,  endeavor 
ing  to  worm  out  of  his  companions  something  against  Kor 
nicker  which  might  render  him  amenable  to  the  law,  and 
which  he  might  hold  over  his  head  ;  a  rod  to  bend  him  to 
his  purposes,  should  he  ever  prove  refractory. 

As  the  dinner  advanced  and  the  bottle  declined,  the  guests 
grew  humorous.  Mr.  Buzby  in  particular,  who  after  several 
unsuccessful  efforts  succeeded  in  describing  the  painful  situ 
ation  of  a  pig,  in  whose  ear  a  dog  was  whispering  some  con 
fidential  communication.  He  also  attempted  to  imitate  the 
remonstrating  scream  of  the  animal ;  but  failed,  owing  to 
his  utterance  having  become  somewhat  thick.  Mr.  Gunter 
then  rose  to  offer  thanks  to  Mr.  Kornicker ;  but  sat  down  on 
discovering  that  Mr.  Buzby  was  terminating  his  communi 
cation  by  an  address  of  a  similar  character ;  and  that  Mr. 


126  HARRY    H ARSON. 

Steekup  was  engaged  in  restraining  Mr.  Sludge,  who  was 
bent  on  performing  a  hornpipe  on  the  table,  which  he 
guaranteed  to  do  without  breaking  a  plate  or  discomposing 
a  glass ;  but  which  Mr.  Steekup  resisted,  being  of  opinion 
that  his  guaranty  was  but  doubtful  security.  Mr.  Sludgo 
however,  was  not  to  be  thwarted.  He  grew  animated  ;  Rust 
encouraged  him ;  he  discussed  the  matter  vehemently  ;  he 
addressed  every  body,  on  all  subjects ;  he  struggled ;  ho 
fought,  and  was  finally  removed  from  the  room,  and  cast 
into  the  arms  of  the  desperadoes  in  the  entry,  to  whom  he 
protested  manfully  against  this  treatment ;  and  one  of  the 
skirts  of  his  coat,  which  had  been  torn  off  in  the  debate,  was 
ejected  after  him.  This  occurrence,  together  with  the  fact 
that  a  third  bottle  had  become  empty ;  and  that  no  more 
was  called  for  by  Rust ;  and  that  it  was  growing  dark,  which 
was  the  hour  for  deeds  of  chivalry  among  choice  spirits  like 
themselves,  seemed  to  be  the  signal  for  a  general  break-up. 
After  shaking  hands  affectionately  with  Rust,  and  slapping 
Kornicker  kindly  but  violently  on  the  back,  and  saying  that 

they  were  sorry  to  see  him  so  'd d  glum,'  they  all 

spoke  on  promiscuous  subjects  at  once,  and  departed  in  a 
body,  each  trying  in  a  very  earnest  manner  to  impress  upon 
the  rest  something  which  he  forgot  before  he  uttered  it, 
but  which  he  supposed  he  would  remember  presently. 

Rust  waited  until  the  silence  showed  that  the  guests  and 
the  '  desperadoes '  had  departed  together ;  and  then  turning 
to  Kornicker,  and  rubbing  his  hands  together,  said : 

'A  very  pleasant  little  party  we  Ve  had,  Mr.  Kornicker  ;  a 
very  pleasant  little  party.  Michael  Rust  is  much  obliged  to 
you  for  dispelling  the  gloom  of  his  office,  and  making  it  the 
gathering-place  of  such  select  society.  He  can't  express  his 
thanks  in  terms  sufficiently  strong.  He  feels  grateful,  too, 
for  your  strict  adherence  to  the  terms  of  the  agreement  be- 


HARRY    K ARSON.  127 

tween  us.  Twenty  dollars  a  month,  meals  for  one,  liquor  for 
none.  Those  were  the  terms,  I  think ;  but  Michael  Rust  is 
growing  old,  and  his  memory  may  have  failed  him.  Perhaps, 
too,  brandy  is  n't  a  liquor ;  he  is  n't  certain ;  it  used  to  be, 
when  he  was  a  boy ;  and  he  does  n't  think  that  it  has 
changed  its  character ;  but  it  may  have  done  so,  and  he  may 
have  forgotten  it ;  for  you  know  he 's  old  and  childish,  and 
even  in  his  dotage.' 

Mr.  Kornicker  shook  his  head.  '  I  knew  it  must  come  ! ' 
thought  he.  lie  muttered  something  about  his  '  standing 
the  shot  for  the  brandy  himself.'  He  made  a  futile  effort  to 
get  at  his  snuff-box,  but  failed;  said  something  about 
'  apology  to  offer,'  and  was  silent. 

'  Well,  Sir,'  said  Rust,  after  a  pause,  altering  his  manner, 
*  I  have  found  you  out.  You  have  n't  yet  discovered  what 
/  am.  Get  these  things  removed ;  for  I  have  that  on  hand 
which  must  be  attended  to.  I  '11  overlook  this,  but  it  must 
never  be  repeated.' 

Kornicker,  glad  to  escape  thus  easily,  and  yielding,  partly 
to  that  ascendency  which  Rust  invariably  acquired  over 
those  whom  he  made  use  of,  and  partly  cowed  by  the  con 
sciousness  of  guilt,  and  the  fear  of  losing  a  comfortable  situ 
ation,  slunk  out  of  the  room  in  search  of  the  boy  from  the 
refectory. 


128  HARRY    HARSON. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

PACING  up  and  down  the  small  room,  and  muttering  to 
himself  in  broken  sentences,  with  his  brows  knit ;  at  one  time 
hugging  his  arms  tight  to  his  breast,  at  another  flinging  them 
over  his  head,  snapping  his  fingers,  or  rubbing  his  hands 
together,  and  chuckling  to  himself,  in  that  low,  mocking 
tone  which  was  peculiar  to  him,  Rust  spent  the  short  inter 
val  that  elapsed  between  the  departure  and  return  of  Kor 
nicker. 

When  he  came  to  the  office  on  that  afternoon,  and  dis 
covered  the  character  of  the  persons  who  during  his  absence 
had  made  it  their  haunt,  his  first  impulse  had  been  to  rid  him 
self  of  them  in  the  most  summary  manner ;  nor  would  he 
have  hesitated  to  have  done  so,  but  for  the  fear  that  Kornicker 
might  regard  such  a  proceeding  as  tantamount  to  taking  the 
same  step  toward  himself,  and  might  break  with  him  im 
mediately,  when  he  could  but  ill  spare  him.  Determining, 
however,  to  reap  some  advantage  from  his  situation,  he  set 
to  work  during  the  dinner  to  effect  two  objects ;  in  the  first 
of  which,  being  to  quell  the  spirits  of  his  clerk,  he  was  com 
pletely  successful ;  but  in  the  second,  which  was  to  discover 
something  against  Kornicker  by  which  he  might  hold  not 
only  that  gentleman's  actions  but  his  conscience  in  check, 
and  finally  break  him  down,  until  he  became  a  mere  ma 
chine,  to  obey  blindly  whatever  was  dictated  to  him,  he 
failed  utterly.  Nothing  was  discovered  on  which  he  could 
hang  a  menace  ;  no  burglary,  no  swindling,  no  embezzlement, 
no  fraud ;  not  even  a  petty  contemptible  theft ;  nothing  that 


HARRY    HARSON.  129 

could  subject  him  to  fine  or  imprisonment,  even  for  a  single 
day ;  for  Kornicker,  though  a  vagabond  of  the  first  water, 
still  stood  out  stoutly  for  principles ;  of  which  he  had  estab 
lished  a  code  to  suit  himself,  somewhat  peculiar  in  character, 
but  which  carried  him  along  more  safely,  and  with  less  to 
answer  for,  here  and  hereafter,  than  many  who  boast  a  nicer 
creed,  and  to  whom  God  had  granted  greater  gifts  and 
more  extended  opportunities.  Rust  had  mistaken  his  man. 
Kornicker  never  deserted  a  friend  in  trouble ;  his  hand  was 
never  shut  against  the  solicitations  of  want,  even  though  that 
hand  might  contain  but  a  shilling;  and  often  and  often,  the 
whine  of  a  beggar  had  drawn  his  last  copper  from  him, 
when  he  knew  not  whither  to  turn  for  another.  Rust,  how 
ever,  was  not  daunted ;  for  he  believed  no  man  so  immacu 
late  but  at  some  time  or  other  he  had  brought  himself  within 
reach  of  the  iron  arm  of  the  law.  '  Patience,  patience ! ' 
thought  he ;  '  time  will  bring  that  too,  and  then  he  will  be 
mine  ;  all  mine  ! ' 

His  reverie  and  these  thoughts,  which  formed  a  very  essen 
tial  part  of  it,  were  cut  short  by  the  arrival  of  the  subject  of 
them,  followed  by  the  small  boy  who  had  officiated  as 
waiter,  bearing  a  large  basket ;  and  who,  according  to  the 
established  usage  of  all  waiters,  on  entering  a  room  which 
they  intend  to  quit  at  any  period  on  the  same  day,  left  the 
door  open  to  facilitate  such  proceeding. 

*  Shut  the  door ! '  said  Rust,  sharply. 

The  boy  obeyed  the  order  instantly ;  and  as  was  intended, 
the  stern,  abrupt  tone  in  which  it  was  spoken  had  a  very 
decided  effect  upon  Kornicker,  who  slunk  into  a  seat  near 
the  window,  and  began  to  look  abstractedly  at  the  ceiling. 

'  It 's  growing  dark,'  said  Rust,  turning  to  him.  *  Will 
you  oblige  me  by  lighting  a  candle  ? ' 

There  was  a  show  of  civility  in  the  wording  of  this  re- 
6* 


130  HA  R R  Y    HA  RSON. 

quest ;  but  the  tone  and  manner  were  as  peremptory  as  in 
his  abrupt  order  to  the  boy ;  and  it  was  obeyed  with  such 
nervous  alacrity  that  Kornicker  succeeded  not  only  in  fulfill 
ing  it,  but  in  burning  his  own  finger ;  whereupon  he  placed 
the  candle  on  the  mantel-piece,  and  blew  upon  the  afflicted 
member  with  great  earnestness. 

'Ah!'  said  Rust,  his  thin  lip  curling,  'it's  a  pity  ;  espe 
cially  as  it 's  entirely  gratuitous ;  I  asked  you  to  light  the 
candle,  not  your  finger.' 

Kornicker  stopped  abruptly,  and  probably  somewhat  stimu 
lated  by  the  pain,  advanced  a  step  toward  him ;  and  looking 
him  steadily  in  the  face,  said  :  *  Thunder !  man ;  let  me  tell 
you ' 

'  Certainly,'  interrupted  Rust,  bowing  with  his  hand  on 
his  heart,  and  his  eyes  closed,  with  an  expression  of  profound 
humility,  '  tell  me  whatever  you  please  ;  I  shall  be  delighted 
to  obtain  information  of  any  kind.  Michael  Rust  is  always 
in  search  of  knowledge.  Pray  go  on  with  your  communi 
cation.  From  its  opening  I  should  think  it  was  on  the  sub 
ject  of  atmospheric  electricity  ;  though  perhaps  it  may  treat 
of  burrfs,  or  candles,  or  even  of  dinner-parties  for  four ;  or  of 
the  various  modes  of  keeping  promises ;  or  perhaps  you  in 
tend  to  show  some  new  process  by  which  a  dinner  contract 
for  one  may  be  made  to  include  five.  The  world 's  improv 
ing  ;  perhaps  mathematical  calculations  are  advancing  also, 
and  I  may  be  behind  the  age.  But  no  matter ;  whatever  it 
is,  emanating  from  such  a  source  as  Mr.  Kornicker,  Mr.  Ed 
ward  Kornicker,  it  must  be  valuable.  Go  on,  do  go  on. 
Bless  me  !  how  slow  you  are  ! ' 

Kornicker,  completely  staggered  by  the  list  of  topics 
which  Rust  enumerated,  each  of  which  was  foreign  to  what 
he  had  to  say,  and  each  of  which  suggested  something  dis 
agreeable,  stared  at  him  for  a  moment  or  two  in  sore  per- 


HARRY    H ARSON.  131 

plexity ;  and  then,  instead  of  continuing  his  remarks,  merely 
shook  his  head,  muttered  something  between  his  teeth  about 
*a  hard  horse  to  ride,'  and  finding  that  blowing  had  not 
assuaged  the  pain  of  his  finger,  had  recourse  to  another 
usual  remedy ;  and  putting  it  in  his  mouth,  sucked  it,  appa 
rently  with  much  satisfaction. 

'  You  do  not  proceed,'  said  Rust,  after  waiting  with  an 
air  of  profound  attention  ;  '  I  'm  sorry,  very  sorry ;  for  I  've  no 
doubt  that  I've  lost  much.  You  shouldn't  have  been  diffi 
dent  ;  you  had  quite  a  small  audience ;  only  two ;  one  of 
them  a  boy,  and  the  other  an  old  fool,  you  know ;  and  we 
would  have  made  all  allowance  for  youthful  embarrassment.' 

Kornicker,  however,  had  so  completely  altered  his  mind 
that  he  made  no  other  response  than  that  of  drawing  his 
finger  from  his  mouth,  with  a  sudden  noise  like  the  popping 
of  a  cork  out  of  a  bottle ;  and  holding  it  to  the  light,  ex 
amined  it  with  an  air  of  anxious  and  sympathizing  investi 
gation.  Having  concluded  his  examination,  he  took  a  seat 
at  the  window,  and  looked  out  in  the  darkness.  Rust  in  the 
mean  time  continued  his  remarks  in  the  same  strain  ;  but  as 
he  went  on,  Mr.  Kornicker  began  to  show  signs  of  restive- 
ness  ;  shaking  his  head  in  a  sudden  and  positive  manner,  as 
if  giving  a  sharp  negative  to  some  imaginary  request ;  draw 
ing  in  his  breath  between  his  teeth,  with  a  whistling  sound, 
and  snuffing  with  extraordinary  frequency  and  vehemence. 

'A  pleasant  prospect  that !  The  view  from  the  window  is 
very  picturesque,  particularly  by  candle-light,'  said  Rust, 
whose  eye  had  not  been  off  his  clerk  for  a  moment.  '  I  think 
it  embraces  a  broken  window  and  an  old  hat ;  although  you 
may  not  be  able  to  see  them  in  this  light,  as  they  are  at  least 
ten  feet  off.  I  hope  you  enjoy  it.' 

4  Suppose  I  do  ? '  said  Kornicker,  turning  short  round, 
placing  a  fist  on  each  knee,  and  looking  up  at  Rust  with  aa 


132  HA  R R  Y    HA  RSON. 

eye  brimming  with  dogged  sulkiness ;  *  and  suppose  I  do  n't ; 
what  then  ?  what  concern  is  that  of  yours  ?  I  came  here  to 
do  your  work ;  not  to  give  an  account  of  my  thoughts  or 
tastes.' 

'  Right !  very  right ! '  replied  Rust,  who  saw  that  he  had 
pushed  matters  as  far  as  was  prudent ;  and  that  any  farther 
direct  attempt  at  annoyance  might  result  in-open  rebellion 
upon  the  part  of  his  clerk ;  but  at  the  same  time  it  was  no 
part  of  his  policy  to  appear  to  yield  to  this  angry  expostu 
lation  ;  so  he  merely  repeated  what  he  had  just  said :  'Very, 
very  right,  Mr.  Kornicker ;  provided  you  do  my  work,  I  care 
not  a  straw  for  your  thoughts  and  tastes;  and  I  have  work 
for  you,  of  which  T  will  speak  to  you  presently.' 

Turning  to  the  boy,  who  was  removing  the  things  from 
the  table  and  placing  them  in  a  large  basket,  he  asked :  *  Who 
were  the  persons  who  dined  here  to-day  ? ' 

The  boy,  who  at  that  moment  was  invisible  with  the 
exception  of  the  rear  of  his  legs,  and  of  that  portion  of  his 
body  to  which  they  were  immediately  attached  —  the  rest  of 
his  person  being  busy  at  the  bottom  of  the  basket,  in  a 
struggle  with  the  remnants  of  the  roast  beef —  rose  slowly  to 
an  upright  attitude,  and  turning  round,  somewhat  red  in  the 
face,  asked  if  Rust  were  speaking  to  him ;  and  on  being 
answered  in  the  affirmative,  and  the  question  being  repeated, 
he  nodded,  and  said :  '  He  rather  thought  he  ought  to  be, 
and  should  n't  be  surprised  to  find  out  that  he  was,  if  waitin' 
on  'em,  not  once,  nor  twice,  nor  three  times,  nor  four  times, 
was  one  of  the  avenues  to  their  acquaintance.' 

'  Then  you  do  know  them  ? '  said  Rust,  to  whom  this 
reply  was  rather  enigmatical. 

'  In  course  I  do ;  all  to  pieces ! '  replied  the  boy. 

This  whole  sentence,  from  the  look  and  gesture  which 
accompanied  it,  Rust  took  to  be  a  strong  affirmative. 


HARRY    H ARSON.  135 

4  Who  are  they  ? ' 

'Ax  him,'  replied  the  boy,  indicating  Kornicker  by  a 
nod  of  his  head.  '  But  do  n't  you  know  ?  My  eyes !  I  thought 
you  know'd  'm  all.  If  I  did  n't,  I'm  bu'st ! ' 

Having  given  utterance  to  this  elegant  expression,  he 
forthwith  plunged  into  the  basket,  and,  with  the  exception 
of  his  aforesaid  legs,  was  seen  no  more,  until  Rust  told  him 
'  to  be  quick,'  when  he  again  emerged,  with  a  piece  of  meat 
in  his  mouth ;  and  shouldering  the  basket,  staggered  out  of 
the  room,  telling  Rust  '  that  if  he  did  n't  shut  the  door  him 
self  this  time,  he  suspected  it  would  be  left  open ;  as  he  had 
but  one  pair  of  hands,  and  that  pair  was  full.' 

While  these  words  were  passing  between  Rust  and  the 
boy,  Kornicker  sat  in  the  window  in  silence ;  but  ever  and 
anon,  turning  about  and  fastening  his  eye  on  the  feet  of  his 
employer,  he  slowly  perused  him  from  his  toes  to  the  crown 
of  his  head ;  and  then  revised  him  downward  to  his  feet, 
with  an  unflinching  stare,  generally  pausing  at  the  eyes,  with 
an  expression  by  no  means  amiable;  and  concluding  his 
examination  by  a  shake  of  the  head,  accompanied  by  that 
same  drawing  in  of  the  breath  already  described. 

In  truth,  Kornicker  was  gradually  beginning  to  entertain 
the  idea  of  throwing  himself  bodily  upon  Rust ;  of  pum 
melling  and  mauling  him  until  he  was  a  jelly ;  of  flinging 
him  promiscuously  under  the  table,  to  keep  company  with 
the  blacking-brushes  and  a  ragged  coverlet  which  lay  there  ; 
then  of  rushing  into  the  street,  cutting  his  employer,  throw 
ing  himself  into  the  arms  of  his  absent  friends,  and  of  setting 
up  for  himself  from  that  time  forth.  As  these  dim  resolu 
tions  acquired  strength,  he  began  to  straighten  himself,  to 
look  Rust  full  in  the  face,  to  linger  his  snuff-box  with  vasf 
nonchalance,  to  indulge  a  low  whistle,  and  once  or  twice  he 


134  HARRY    H ARSON. 

even  worked  his  arms  and  shoulders  backward  and  forward, 
developing  his  strength  for  some  unusual  performance. 

These  and  various  other  indications  of  a  resuscitation  of 
spirits  did  not  escape  the  quick  eye  of  Rust,  who  saw  that 
he  could  venture  no  farther;  and  after  standing  for  some 
time  with  his  arms  folded,  and  his  eyes  fastened  on  the  floor, 
he  turned  to  Kornicker  and  said,  in  a  tone  very  different 
from  any  which  he  had  hitherto  assumed  : 

*  I  have  appeared  to  you  to  act  strangely  to-night,  eh  ? ' 

'  D d  if  you  have  n't ! '  replied  that  gentleman,  lacon 
ically. 

'I  supposed  so,'  said  Rust;  'but  I  came  here  harassed, 
perhaps  cornered ;  as  a  wild  beast  would  seek  his  den,  for 
quiet  and  repose ;  and  to  endeavor  to  extricate  myself  from 
troubles  which  are  thick  upon  me  ;  and  I  found  it  the  resort 
of— what?' 

He  paused  and  looked  at  Kornicker,  who,  not  knowing 
exactly  under  what  head  to  class  the  individuals  who  had 
passed  the  afternoon  there,  remained  perfectly  silent. 

1  It  was  not  right,'  said  Rust.  '  It  was  not  right ;  but  no 
matter  for  that  now.  I  have  work  on  hand  which  must  be 
attended  to  at  once.  Bring  your  chair  to  the  table. 

Kornicker,  in  compliance  with  this  request,  and  not  a  little 
mollified  by  Rust's  change  of  manner,  dragged  his  chair  to 
the  place  designated,  swung  it  to  its  feet,  sat  himself  down 
on  it,  and  leaning  his  elbow  on  the  table  and  his  cheek  on 
his  hand,  waited  for  the  other  to  open  his  communication. 

Taking  a  large  pocket-book  from  his  pocket,  Rust  ran  his 
eye  over  a  number  of  papers  which  were  folded  up  in  it,  and 
finally  selected  two,  which  he  placed  on  the  table  in  front 
of  him. 

'  There  they  are,  at  last.  Those  are  the  ones,'  said  he, 
pushing  them  toward  Kornicker. 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  135 

The  clerk  took  them  up  one  after  the  other,  holding  an 
end  in  each  hand,  and  carefully  viewed  them  from  side  to 
side ;  after  which  he  replaced  them  on  the  table,  and  ob 
served,  partly  by  way  of  remark  and  partly  in  soliloquy : 
*  Two  promissory  notes ;  Enoch  Grosket,  maker ;  in  favor  of 
Ezra  Ikes,  for  fifteen  hundred  dollars  each ;  due  six  months 
ago.' 

'And  endorsed  by  Ikes  to  Michael  Rust,'  continued  Rust, 
taking  up  the  phrase  where  Kornicker  had  left  off.  'En 
dorsed  to  Michael  Rust ;  that 's  me ! '  said  Rust,  looking 
eagerly  in  his  eyes,  and  pressing  his  thin  finger  on  his  own 
breast :  '  me  — ! ' 

'  If  you  tell  me  that  by  way  of  news,  you  're  late  in  the 
day,  my  man,'  replied  the  other.  'I  know  that  Michael  Rust 
is  you,  and  that  you  are  Michael  Rust ;  I  think  I  ought  to.' 
And  for  the  first  time  in  the  course  of  that  evening,  Kor 
nicker  closed  his  eyes,  and  shook  inwardly ;  thereby  indi 
cating  that  he  was  enjoying  a  hearty  laugh. 

'You  will  take  these  notes,'  said  Rust,  without  paying 
any  regard  either  to  his  merriment  or  his  observation,  '  and 
sue  on  them  at  once ;  arrest  Grosket,  fling  him  into  prison, 
and  there  let  him  lie  and  rot,  until  his  stubborn  heart  be 
broken ;  until  he  crawl  to  my  very  feet  and  lick  the  dust 
from  them.  If  he  will  not  bend,  why,  then,'  muttered  he, 
setting  his  teeth,  and  his  black  eye  dilating,  '  let  him  die  ; 
his  blood  be  upon  his  own  head.  The  fool !  the  vain,  weak, 
short-sighted  fool !  He  knew  not  that  I  had  these  in  my 
grasp,'  said  he,  taking  up  the  notes  and  shaking  them  as  if 
in  menace  at  the  object  of  his  wrath.  'Now  let  him  writhe 
in  his  den ;  and  moan,  and  rave,  and  blaspheme  to  the  walls 
Jiat  shut  him  in.  There  is  no  escape.  No,  no ;  the  jail  is 
his  home;  the  felon  his  room-mate;  ho!  ho!  What  a 
glorious  thing  law  is  !  Now,  then,  Enoch,  friend  Enoch  ' 


136  HARRY    H ARSON. 

conscientious  Enoch!  we'll  see  in  whose  hand  the  game 
lies!1 

There  is  always  something  in  the  display  of  any  fierce 
emotion,  no  matter  how  subdued  may  be  the  manner  or  tone 
it  assumes,  so  it  be  connected  with  stern,  unflinching  purpose, 
that  quells  all  lighter  feelings  in  others;  and  there  was  that 
in  the  glowing  eye  of  Rust,  and  in  the  convulsive  working 
of  his  thin  features,  and  in  the  sharp,  hissing  tones  of  his 
voice,  although  he  spoke  scarcely  above  a  whisper,  which 
effectually  banished  from  Kornicker  all  farther  inclination 
for  merriment ;  but  at  the  same  time  he  felt  no  great  com 
placency  in  being  in  the  employ  of  a  man  who  kept  such 
dark  and  bitter  feelings  garnered  up  in  his  heart. 

4  Is  it  Enoch  Grosket,  the  one  who  used  to  be  here,  you 
want  put  in  limbo  ? '  inquired  he,  after  looking  in  the  face 
which  bent  over  his  ;  '  why,  I  thought ' 

' Think  what  you  please,'  replied  Rust,  fiercely.  'I  ex 
plain  my  motives  to  no  one.  My  instructions  to  you  are 
simple.  Get  the  money  for  these  notes  from  Enoch  Grosket, 
down  to  the  last  farthing.  Listen  to  no  offers  of  compromise ; 
and  whatever  law  will  do  toward  adding  wretchedness  to 
poverty,  let  him  feel ! ' 

Rust  spoke  sternly  and  peremptorily,  too  much  so  for  his 
own  purpose;  and  he  observed  that  Kornicker  eyed  him  with 
a  look  of  suspicion,  and  once  or  twice  shook  his  head,  as  if 
the  duty  prescribed  did  not  suit  his  taste.  He  saw  that  he 
must  play  his  card  nicely ;  and  to  allay  any  feeling  of  com 
punction  which  might  be  gaining  ground  with  Kornicker, 
he  said,  as  if  speaking  to  himself:  '  Much  as  that  man 
Grosket  has  wronged  me ;  much  as  he  has  threatened  me ; 
anxious  as  he  now  is  to  ruin  me ;  I  '11  deal  more  fairly  with 
him  than  he  has  done  with  me.  I  '11  be  open  in  all  my 
dealings.  I  '11  not  stab  in  the  dark,  as  he  has  done.  He 


HARRY    H ARSON.  137 

shall  know  who  his  opponent  is ;  and  let  him  cope  with  him 
if  he  can.'  *  Mr.  Kornicker,'  said  he,  addressing  his  clerk,  as 
if  unconscious  that  what  he  had  just  said  had  reached  that 
gentleman's  ear,  *  be  strict  in  conducting  that  matter  with 
Grosket ;  but  deal  fairly  with  him.  Let  every  proceeding 
be  such  as  will  bear  the  light ;  no  quirking  nor  quibbling ; 
no  double-dealing ;  no,  no.  Give  him  law ;  law,  only  law  ; 
that 's  all  I  ask.  I  '11  not  let  anger  sway  my  actions,  what 
ever  effect  it  may  have  on  my  words.  Did  I  not  step  in 
between  him  and  starvation  ?  Did  I  not  lift  himself  and  his 
family  from  the  very  dirt ;  and  for  five  long  years  did  I  not 
furnish  the  very  bread  which  they  ate;  and  what  then? 
The  viper  turned  upon  me  and  stung  me ;  and  even  now,  as  I 
have  recently  learned,  is  endeavoring  to  thwart  me  in  schemes 
upon  which  depend  all  my  prospects  in  life.  Notwithstanding 
all  this,  Mr.  Kornicker,  I  now  ask  only  justice.  Other  men 
might  be  revengeful,  and  might  long  for  his  very  life ;  but 
it's  not  so  with  me !  Michael  Rust  seeks  but  justice.  Now, 
Sir,  what 's  the  first  step  you  '11  take  upon  those  papers  ? ' 
said  he,  pointing  to  the  notes ;  '  how  will  you  arrest  him  ? ' 

Kornicker  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair,  and  putting 
his  fingers  together  at  the  points,  and  forming  two  hollows  of 
his  hands,  looked  at  them  with  an  air  of  profound  delibera 
tion,  as  if  selecting  one  out  of  several  hundred  modes  of 
commencing  a  suit.  Having,  as  he  supposed,  duly  impressed 
Rust  with  the  importance  of  the  undertaking,  he  took  his 
snuff-box  from  his  pocket,  and  having  balanced  it  for  some 
minutes,  in  great  absence  of  mind,  in  one  hand,  while  with 
equal  abstraction  he  held  a  pinch  of  snuff  between  tho,  thumb 
and  forefinger  of  the  other,  he  replied,  'that  he  thought, 
upon  the  whole,  it  would  be  advisable  to  commence  by 
capias ; ' '  after  which  he  snuffed  copiously. 
'  How  soon  can  you  begin  ? '  inquired  Rust.  » 


138  HARRY    H ARSON. 

'As  soon  as  I  can  get  a  writ,'  replied  Kornicker,  dusting 
the  particles  of  snuff  from  his  prominent  feature  with  the 
back  of  his  hand.  *  A  blank  costs  two  cents.' 

*  Begin  at  once  ;  to-night ! '  said  Rust,  pushing  a  handful 
of  silver  to  him.  'Have  him  in  prison  before  midnight 
Spare  no  expense,  but  carry  out  my  views.' 

'  Why,  you  are  quick  upon  the  trigger,'  replied  his  clerk. 
'  I  can  fill  up  the  writ  at  once  ;  but  it 's  eight  o'clock  ;  the 
clerk's  office  is  shut,  and  we  can't  get  a  seal ;  so  is  the  sher 
iff's  office,  and  we  can't  get  a  deputy.  It  won't  do.  We 
must  wait  until  to-morrow.' 

'  Time  is  gold  now,'  muttered  Rust,  starting  up.  '  Had 
I  been  warned  sooner  ;  had  that  love-sick  boy  spoken  but  a 
few  hours  earlier,  I  might  have  had  him  in  my  grasp. 
While  I  am  -here,  with  my  hands  tied  by  the  empty  forms 
of  courts  and  legal  proceedings,  Grosket  is  at  work.  Who 
knows  what  a  single  night  may  bring  forth  !  In  a  single 
night,  nay,  in  a  single  hour,  the  schemes  of  a  whole  life  might 
be  overthrown ;  and  with  such  a  man  as  Grosket  to  cope 
with,  the  danger  is  doubled.  Would  that  I  had  him  here  ! 
with  no  law  to  hold  up  its  warning  finger  at  me ;  with  my 
gripe  upon  his  throat !  Good  Enoch  !  my  dear,  best-beloved 
Enoch !  would  that  I  had  you  here !  So  nothing  can  be 
done  until  to-morrow  ? '  said  he,  abruptly,  turning  to  Kor 
nicker,  as  he  recollected  that  he  was  not  alone  ;  '  and  I  must 
Bit  here,  shackled,  until  then  ? ' 

'As  to  the  shackles,'  Mr.  Kornicker  replied, '  that  he  knew 
nothing  about  them  ;  but  as  to  issuing  the  writ  before  morn 
ing,  it  could  n't  be  done,  that  was  plump  ! '  Saying  which, 
he  pushed  back  the  money,  and  thrusting  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  whistled  thoughtfully. 

'  You  '11  be  here  early  in  the  morning  ? '  said  Rust. 


HARRY    H ARSON.  139 

'  I  rather  think  I  will,'  replied  Kornicker,  *  unless  the 
house  should  take, fire,  in  which  case  I  shall  withdraw.' 

Rust  looked  at  him  for  an  explanation,  which  Kornicker 
immediately  gave  by  pointing  to  the  coverlet  under  the 
table,  and  informing  him  that  they  were  then  in  his  bed 
chamber  ;  at  the  same  time  volunteering  the  information 
that  during  the  day  the  bed  itself  was  placed  in  a  spare 
room  in  the  garret,  occupied  only  by  a  cat  and  her  family  ; 
which  said  cat  and  family  were  a  source  of  much  annoyance 
to  him,  from  their  being  addicted  to  sleeping  on  his  bed 
during  the  whole  time  that  it  was  not  occupied  for  the  same 
purpose  by  himself.  '  Cats  had  n't  fleas ;  there  was  some 
comfort  in  that.  If  it  had  been  a  dog  and  family,  he  should 
have  resisted  strenuously.' 

Rust,  at  the  conclusion  of  his  observations,  turning  to  him, 
merely  said  :  *  If  nothing  can  be  done  here,  I  must  be  at  work 
where  my  time  will  not  be  lost.  I  shall  expect  you  to  be 
ready  early  in  the  morning.  Good-night ! ' 

At  an  early  hour  on  the  following  day,  Mr.  Kornicker 
sallied  out  of  his  office,  and  bent  his  steps  toward  the  City 
Hall,  bearing  in  his  hand  a  small  slip  of  printed  paper, 
whereby  the  Sheriff  of  the  City  and  County  of  New- York 
was  commanded  by  the  People  of  the  State  of  New-York  to 
take  the  body  of  Enoch  Grosket,  defendant,  if  he  should  be 
found  in  his  bailiwick,  and  him  safely  keep,  and  to  have 
him  before  the  Judges  of  the  Supreme  Court  on  a  certain 
day  and  at  a  certain  place,  to  answer  unto  Michael  Rust, 
plaintiff,  for  the  non-performance  of  certain  promises  and 
undertakings,  etc.,  to  the  damage  of  the  said  plaintiff  of 
three  thousand  dollars.  And  on  the  back  of  the  same  paper 
was  a  small  memorandum,  containing  a  hint  to  the  said 
sheriff  to  hold  the  defendant  to  bail  in  six  thousand  dollars. 

Thus  armed  and  equipped  according  to  law,  Mr.  Kornicker 


140  HARRY    HA  R  $  0  X. 

presented  himself  at  the  sanctum  of  that  officer.  It  was  a 
small  room,  with  a  partition  a  few  feet  high  thrown  across 
it,  to  shield  the  sanctity  of  the  magistrate  and  his  deputies 
from  contaminating  contact  with  the  rabble  members  of  the 
bar.  Behind  this  partition  was  a  sloping  desk,  on  which  lay 
a  number  of  large  ledgers;  and  looking  over  one  of  these, 
stood  a  stoutish  man,  with  a  ronnd,  full  face,  thin  whiskers, 
and  an  aquiline  nose.  He  had  a  gold  chain  hanging  over 
his  vest,  and  there  was  not  a  little  pretension  in  the  cut  of 
his  garments.  As  Mr.  Kornicker  entered,  he  put  his  pen  in 
his  mouth,  paused  in  his  employment,  and  looked  at  him 
over  the  partition. 

'Here  's  a  gentleman  whose  flint  wants  fixing,'  said 
Kornicker,  handing  him  the  writ.  '  I  want  it  done  at  once. 
Screw  him  tight.' 

The  man  nodded  ;  and  taking  the  paper,  after  glancing  at 
it,  turned  to  a  person  who  sat  behind  the  partition,  invisible 
to  Kornicker,  and  said  :  *  Mr.  Kipe,  can't  you  do  this  ? ' 

Mr.  Kipe  rose  up;  a  mild  man,  six  feet  high,  surmounted 
by  a  broad-brimmed  hat,  from  beneath  which  straggled  a 
few  locks  of  hair,  which  had  once  been  iron-gray,  but  which 
were  now  fast  verging  toward  white.  His  nose  was  bulbous, 
being  neither  Roman  nor  pug ;  his  eyes  dark,  and  paternal 
in  their  expression  ;  his  neck  was  buried  in  the  folds  of  a 
white  cravat ;  and  in  his  hand  he  carried  a  cane,  probably 
for  the  combined  purposes  of  self-aid  and  self-defence. 

Fixing  his  hat  more  securely  on  his  head,  and  placing  his 
cane  under  his  arm,  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  small  leathern 
case,  containing  his  spectacles  ;  and  having  placed  them  on 
his  nose,  and  adjusted  and  readjusted  them  several  times,  he 
proceeded  to  peruse  the  document  submitted  to  his  inspec 
tion.  Having  completed  this,  he  gently  inquired  if  Grosket 
lived  a  great  way  off;  and  being  informed  that  he  did  not, 


HARRY    H ARSON.  141 

nc  said, '  he  rather  thought  he  'd  like  the  job.'  This  conclu 
sion  having  been  -happily  reached,  the  man  with  a  Roman 
nose  entered  the  writ  in  one  of  the  ledgers  which  lay  in  front 
of  him,  after  which  Mr.  Kipe  placed  it  in  a  large  pocket-book, 
in  company  with  about  a  dozen  documents  of  the  same 
description,  and  looking  affectionately  at  his  collection,  he 
shook  his  head  with  a  melancholy  smile,  and  said  : 

*  Folks  is  beginning  to  talk  of  abolishing  imprisonment  for 
debt.  It 's  an  innivation  as  will  bring  no  good ;  and  it  's 
the  hardest-hearted  proceeding  agin  us  deputies  as  has  been 
done  yet.  It  '11  use  us  all  up.  Forty  year  I  Ve  been  a 
deputy,  and  never  heerd  of  the  like  of  it  afore  ;  never  !  never  ! 
Arter  this,  rascals  will  be  gentlemen,  and  deputies  will  be 
beggars  !  Ah  ! ' 


142  HARRY    H ARSON. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

A  SAD  blow  was  this  quarrel  between  her  father  and  Ned 
Sotners,  to  Kate  Rhoneland ;  for  so  fierce  and  bitter  was  the 
anger  of  the  old  man,  whenever  he  was  alluded  to,  and  so 
opprobrious  were  the  epithets  which  he  showered  upon  him, 
that  at  last  his  name  was  never  mentioned  between  them. 
But  had  Kate  forgotten  him  ?  or  had  she  forgotten  the  day 
on  which  he  had  met  her  in  the  street,  and  had  turned 
about,  and  had  walked  at  her  side ;  and  had,  among  other 
things,  told  her  that  he  loved  her  more  than  all  the  world 
beside  ?  Or  had  she  forgotten  how  she  had  uttered  a  few 
words  in  reply  ;  but  how,  or  what  they  were,  she  knew  not ; 
except  that  they  made  his  eyes  grow  bright  with  smiles,  as 
he  whispered  in  her  ear  that  she  was  *  his  own  dear  little 
Kate,  and  made  him  very  happy ; '  and  that  they  had  loi 
tered  on,  hour  after  hour,  quite  forgetting  that  she  had  any 
where  to  go,  or  any  thing  to  do,  or  any  thing  to  speak  of,  or 
think  of ;  or  that  there  was  any  one  else  in  the  wide  world 
but  themselves  ?  No,  no.  Kate  had  forgotten  none  of  these 
things.  A  happy  day  was  that !  They  had  talked  over  oc 
currences  which  had  taken  place  long  before.  They  had 
explained  away  trifling  difficulties  and  misunderstandings, 
which  had  been  the  source  of  much  thought  and  anxiety  to 
both ;  and  which  (although  Kate  did  not  confess  thus  much) 
had  often  caused  her  eyes  to  fill  with  tears,  when  she  was 
alone,  and  there  were  none  to  see  her  ;  and  which  accounted 
for  the  bright  drops  which  her  father  had  sometimes  discov 
ered  on  her  cheek  as  she  lay  asleep,  when  he  came  to  take 


HARRY   HARSON.  143 

a  last  look  at  her,  at  night ;  and  which  had  caused  him  to 
ponder  and  dream  until  he  forgot  them  amid  his  own 
troubles.  Thus  was  that  day  spent ;  a  green  spot  in  mem 
ory.  Through  quiet,  out-of-the-way  streets,  they  took  their 
way  ;  through  quarters  which  the  bustle  of  the  world  never 
reached,  and  where  the  rumbling  of  the  city  was  heard  only 
in  the  distance,  like  the  hum  of  a  mighty  hive  ;  beneath  tall 
trees  with  their  long  branches  drooping  to  the  earth,  as  if  to 
protect  the  soil  which  made  them  so  great  and  beautiful  as 
they  were  ;  and  their  deep-green  leaves,  now  glittering  with 
sunlight,  now  dark  in  shadow,  hanging  motionless,  or  quiv 
ering  on  their  slender  stems,  with  a  scarcely  audible  sound, 
as  if  whispering  to  each  other  ;  and  through  the  thick  foliage 
were  glimpses  of  the  blue  sky,  with  here  and  there  a  fleecy 
cloud  loitering  on  its  broad  bosom,  like  a  sail  at  sea ;  while 
beneath,  the  earth  was  checkered  with  a  mosaic  of  light  and 
shadow.  Who  can  tell  the  happiness  of  those  young  hearts 
on  that  day  ?  Who  can  tell  why  sky  and  earth  seemed  so 
beautiful ;  and  even  the  faded  old  houses  about  them,  pent 
up  in  dim  streets,  with  great  trees  nodding  over  them  liki 
dozing  sentinels,  seemed  to  wear  a  gay,  glad  look  ? 

How  much  they  had  to  say  !  And  yet,  when  it  was  said, 
and  they  had  parted,  and  Kate  was  recalling  it  to  mind  in 
her  own  room,  how  little  there  was  in  it !  How  familiarly 
she  had  leaned  on  his  arm,  as  if  she  had  known  him  from 
childhood  !  and  how  fondly  he  looked  down  ?n  her  face !  and 
how  strange  it  seemed  to  call  him  '  Ned,'  when  she  had 
never  before  addressed  him  except  as  Mr.  Somers  !  Yet 
'  Ned '  sounded  better  ;  much  better  than  '  Mr.  Somers  ; '  and 
so  did  '  Kate '  than  '  Miss  Rhoneland.'  Poor  little  Kate  ! 
There  was  much  food  for  thought  in  all  that  had  passed  that 
day  ;  much  food  for  happy  thought.  All  that  had  occurred 
was  dreamed  over ;  and  never  had  time  flown  by  so  rapidly. 


144  HARRY    II ARSON. 

How  surprised  she  had  been,  on  hearing  a  clock  striking  the 
hour,  to  discover  that  he  and  she  had  been  walking  for  four 
long  hours,  and  that  Ned,  like  a  downright  vagabond,  as  he 
was,  and  as  she  told  him  he  was,  had  contrived  (she  of  course 
not  being  aware  of  the  matter)  to  get  her  at  the  longest  pos 
sible  distance  from  home ;  so  that  when  they  returned,  it 
took  them  a  good  hour  to  get  back ;  nor  did  he  even  then, 
as  she  shrewdly  suspected,  select  the  most  direct  course  ;  but 
as  she  was  not  certain  on  this  point,  she  said  nothing  about 
it ;  but  merely  told  him  *  that  she  would  be  careful  the  next 
time  she  trusted  herself  to  his  guidance ; '  which  no  doubt 
she  was. 

Well !  the  happiest  day  in  our  lives  must  have  an  end  ; 
and  that  day,  which  certainly  was  the  happiest  clay  in  the 
life  of  Kate,  at  last  came  to  an  end  ;  and  Ned  Somers  was 
gone,  having  escorted  her  to  the  door  and  even  into  the 
entry,  from  which,  however,  he  retreated  with  some  pre 
cipitancy  on  discovering  that  he  had  inadvertently,  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life,  pressed  his  lips  to  hers,  and  that  if 
he  remained  there,  the  same  inadvertent  offence  might  be 
repeated  to  an  indefinite  extent ;  an  occurrence  which,  of 
course,  under  present  circumstances,  could  not  fail  to  be  in 
the  highest  degree  lacerating  to  the  feelings  of  both. 

She  never  spoke  to  her  father  about  what  Ned  had  said ; 
for  Ned  had  told  her  that  he  did  not  wish  to  ask  her  of  him 
until  he  could  look  him  in  the  face,  and  tell  him  *  that  he 
could  support  her  as  she  always  had  been  accustomed  to 
live ;  and  that  it  was  his  daughter,  and  his  daughter 
only,  that  he  asked.'  He  told  her,  too,  that  that  time  would 
come  soon,  and  that  they  were  both  young,  (for  Kate  was 
then  barely  sixteen ;)  and  Kate  had  said,  *  Oh  yes,  entirely 
too  young  to  get  married,'  although  Somers  had  differed 
from  her  on  that  score  ;  but  from  that  day  forth,  Ned  hnd 


HARRY    EAR  SON.  145 

constantly  been  at  the  house  at  all  hours,  until  ho  was  re 
garded  as  one  of  themselves,  and  grew  to  be  almost  as  great 
a  favorite  with  the  old  man  as  with  Kate  herself ;  and  both 
looked  hopefully  forward  to  the  time  when  Ned's  prospects, 
which  were  already  brightening  fast,  should  be  firmly  estab 
lished. 

Things  had  gone  on  thus  until  Michael  Rust  came ;  and 
with  him  came  a  change  in  all  else.  There  was  evidently 
something  between  him  and  Rhoneland,  hidden  from  all 
others,  which  had  a  powerful  influence  upon  the  latter,  who 
more  than  once  spoke  to  Kate  of  their  new  guest,  inculcating 
%upon  her  respect  and  deference  to  him.  At  other  times  the 
old  man  spoke  to  her  of  observing  a  strict  economy ;  of 
saving  every  farthing,  to  lay  it  up  in  case  of  need,  speaking 
of  gold  as  if  it  were  omnipotent,  and  seeming  to  gloat  over 
it  with  a  miser's  hunger ;  yet  such  had  never  been  his  dis 
position  until  Michael  Rust  came.  But  that  was  not  all; 
for,  although  it  would  almost  have  broken  her  heart  to  see 
the  fine-souled  old  man  which  her  father  always  had  been, 
sinking  down  into  a  mere  machine  for  hoarding  dollars,  with 
no  other  instinct  or  aim  in  life ;  it  was  not  that  which  lay 
heaviest  at  her  heart.  From  what  had  dropped  from  him 
at  intervals,  she  knew  that  there  was  a  stronger  bond  be 
tween  him  and  Rust  than  the  mere  obsequiousness  which 
avarice  pays  to  wealth.  There  was  the  quick,  restless  motion 
of  the  body  when  Rust's  name  was  mentioned ;  the  watch 
ful,  irresolute  glance  of  the  eye ;  ever  ready  to  detect  his 
slightest  motion,  like  that  of  one  ever  in  fear,  and  ever  on 
his  guard  against  attack.  There  was  the  nervous,  anxious 
desire  to  propitiate,  to  remove  any  thing  which  might  give 
offence ;  and  yet  unaccompanied  by  any  of  those  tokens  of 
goodwill  which  indicate  that  these  acts  spring  from  the 
heart  and  not  from  the  fears ;  all  showing  that  the  tie  which 


!46  HARRY    EARS  ON. 

connected  them  was  not  one  of  love  on  the  part  of  Rhone 
land. 

At  last  Rust,  who  for  a  long  time  had  troubled  himselt 
about  no  one  but  Rhoneland,  seemed  to  discover  that  he  had 
a  daughter,  and  that  that  daughter  was  exceedingly  beauti 
ful,  and  that  the  old  man  doated  on  her.     He  also  discovered 
that  a  certain  young  man  by  the  name  of  Edward  Somers 
came  to  the  house  frequently ;  much  more  frequently  than 
was  proper  for  a  young  man  not  connected  with  the  family, 
and  not  having  any  thing  in  particular  to  bring  him  there. 
Having  made  this  discovery,  and  thinking  it  desirable  to  get 
Somers  out  of  the  way,  he  set  to  work  to  attack  his  charac 
ter  ;  not  openly,  but  in  that  most  assassin-like  of  all  modes, 
by  throwing  out  inuendoes,  and  by  repealing  rumors  which 
he  had  heard,  but  which  of  course  he  did  not  believe,  and 
which  he  mentioned  only  that  his  friend  Jacob  might  know 
what  absurd  stories  were  afloat.      They  were  never  repeated 
in  the  presence  of  Kate,  buf.  to  the  old  man  when  he  and 
Rust  were  alone.    Rhone]  °nd,  however,  stood  out  stoutly  for 
his  young  friend.     He  said,  *  that  the  reports  were  lies,  and 
he  did  not  believe  them.'     Neither  did  Rust.     '  He  was  as 
tonished  that  people  would  circulate  such  tales;  for  Ned 
was  a  fine,  frank,  open-hearted  fellow,  although  he  must  con 
fess  that  he  had  not  liked  Ned  at  first,  for  he  thought  he  had 
a  *  down  look,' '  (which,  by  the  way,  was  rather  remarkable, 
as  Ned  always  held  his  head  peculiarly  erect,  as  if  to  look 
all  the  world  in  the  face.)     Rust,  however,  kept  at  work, 
rasping,  and  rubbing,  and  picking  away  at  Ned's  character ; 
inventing  a  thousand  things  which  had  never  happened,  and 
whispering  to  the  old  man,  under  promises  of  secrecy,  re 
marks  which  Ned  had  made  of  him,  which  were  not  very 
respectful,  and  which  Rust  was  surprised  (considering  what 
a  fine  fellow  Ned  was)  that  Ned  should  make.     His  success, 


HARRY    EAR  SON.  147 

however,  in  sowing  suspicion  was  not  very  great,  until  the 
conversation  with  Harson  opened  Rhone] and's  eyes  for  the 
first  time  to  a  fact  which  he  had  never  before  suspected; 
that  Ned's  visits  were  paid  to  his  daughter ;  and  that  his 
child  had  given  her  affections  to  him.  On  the  heels  of  that 
came  the  encounter  with  Michael  Rust,  and  his  insinuations, 
that  Ned  was  hovering  round  his  daughter  with  the  purpose 
of  decoying  her  from  him,  and  deserting  her  when  there  was 
no  hope  left  for  her  but  the  grave. 

It  was  no  wonder  then  that  when  Somers  was  driven  from 
the  house,  the  old  man  hugged  his  daughter  in  his  arms,  and 
wept  over  her,  and  kissed  her  fair  forehead,  and  pressed  her 
face  to  his  bosom,  and  rested  his  cheek  upon  her  head,  while 
his  whole  frame  shook  with  heavy  sobs  of  mingled  joy  and 
indignation ;  nor  that  he  kept  near  her  the  whole  of  that 
clay,  scarcely  suffering  her  to  quit  his  sight,  locking  the  house- 
door,  and  always  opening  it  himself  when  there  was  a  knock, 
lest  it  should  be  Somers,  returning  to  lure  his  child  from  him. 
Over  and  over  again  he  begged  her  not  to  leave  him ;  con 
juring  her  not  to  see  Somers  again,  and  telling  her  that  Ned 
was  a  scoundrel,  and  that  .the  only  mode  of  saving  herself 
from  destruction  was  by  never  meeting  him  again. 

And  did  Kate  never  see  Somers  again  ?  But  once  and 
only  once.  She  knew  that  her  father  wronged  him.  She 
knew  how  long  and  patiently  he  had  been  waiting  and  work 
ing  for  her.  She  knew  too  that  Michael  Rust  had  his  own 
designs  upon  her ;  for  Michael  Rust's  admiration  was  too 
undisguised,  and  his  speech  too  devoid  of  conoealment,  to 
leave  her  in  doubt.  She  knew  too,  although  he  had  stu 
diously  concealed  it  from  her,  that  he  was  Ned's  enemy,  and 
she  strongly  suspected  that  he  was  at  the  bottom  of  the 
trouble  between  Ned  and  her  father.  She  knew  all  this, 
and  she  thought  it  but  right  that  Ned  should  know  it  too ; 
for  she  had  hitherto  concealed  much  that  had  passed  between 


148  HARRY    H ARSON. 

Rust  and  herself,  lest  it  should  lead  to  difficulties  between 
Somers  and  her  father's  guest.  But  nothing  was  to  be 
gained  by  concealment  now ;  and  she  felt,  that  to  see  Somers, 
to  tell  him  all  that  she  knew,  all  that  she  had  seen,  all  that 
she  had  heard,  and  all  that  she  suspected,  was  but  her  duty, 
and  that  to  refrain  from  doing  so  would  be  very,  very  wrong. 
If  she  erred,  it  was  an  error  which  many  will  forgive. 

And  under  this  conviction,  she  met  him  again,  with  her 
young  heart  full  almost  to  bursting.  She  told  him  every 
thing  that  she  knew  or  suspected  of  Rust,  and  his  plans  with 
reference  to  herself;  she  begged  him  to  watch  him ;  but 
above  all,  to  incur  no  risk  himself.  She  told  him  too  that 
he  and  she  must  meet  no  more ;  but  she  assured  him,  what 
ever  others  might  say,  or  do,  or  think,  that  she  believed  not 
the  slanders  circulated  against  him  ;  that  she  loved  him  still ; 
that  in  her  heart  of  hearts  he  was  still  the  same  to  her  that 
he  always  had  been  ;  and  that  he  ever  would  be,  until  that 
heart  ceased  to  beat.  She  said  this,  and  she  said  a  thousand 
times  more,  for  she  was  meeting  him  with  the  full  resolve 
to  meet  him  no  more  without  her  father's  consent ;  with  the 
full  knowledge  that  their  parting  must  be  at  all  events  a 
long  one,  perhaps  a  final  one. 

They  went  over  the  same  spots  which  they  had  lingered 
over  in  happier  hours ;  the  same  out-of-the-way  haunts,  where 
there  were  few  to  observe  them ;  under  the  same  old  trees 
which  stretched  out  their  long  branches,  now  naked  and  strip 
ped  of  foliage ;  along  the  same  bye-streets  through  which  they 
had  loitered  on  the  day  when  he  first  learned  that  she  loved 
him.  They  spoke  but  little ;  for  all  that  Ned  could  do  was 
to  assert  that  the  tales  which  had  been  repeated  to  her  father 
were  false ;  to  breathe  forth  vengeance  against  the  slanderer, 
and  to  suggest  the  propriety  of  belaboring  Rust  soundly,  and 
running  the  risk  of  the  flogging  falling  on  the  right  shoulders. 


HARRY    H ARSON.  149 

And  all  that  Kate  could  say  in  return  was  to  repeat  her  full 
belief  that  Ned  was  all  that  she  had  supposed  and  wished  him 
to  be. 

Thus  the  day  lingered  on,  and  the  time  came  for  parting. 
They  said  but  little,  for  there  were  no  bright  prospects  to 
cheer  them  on :  a  few  words  of  encouragement  faintly 
spoken,  for  their  hearts  whispered  that  they  were  vain  ;  a  few 
broken  words  of  hope,  uttered  in  so  sad  a  tone  that  they 
seemed  a  mockery ;  a  stifled  '  God  bless  you,  Kate ! '  as  he 
pressed  her  to  his  heart ;  a  '  Good-bye,  Ned,'  half  sobbed, 
and  they  parted  ;  and  Kate  hurried  to  her  own  room,  and 
hiding  her  face  in  her  hands,  wept  the  bitterest  tears  that 
she  had  ever  shed.  But  the  agony  was  over ;  and  now  she 
told  her  father  that  they  had  met;  and  why;  and  that  they 
were  to  meet  no  more  until  he  could  vindicate  himself.  The 
old  man  heard  her  out,  contrary  to  her  expectations,  with 
out  an  expression  of  anger,  and  merely  said,  that  '  it  was 
very  well ;  that  she  did  right  to  see  him  no  more ; '  and  that 
was  all. 


150  HA  RRY    II A  US  0 N. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

AT  about  eleven  o'clock  on  a  fine  day,  a  tall  elderly  man, 
habited  in  a  long-skirted  blue  overcoat,  with  a  broad-brim 
med  hat  on  his  head,  his  neck  enveloped  in. the  ample  folds 
of  a  white  cravat,  the  ends  of  which  toyed  pleasantly  with 
the  morning  air ;  and  having  in  his  hand  a  cane,  whose  top 
was  carved  in  a  miniature  likeness  of  a  dog  with  a  melan 
choly  countenance,  slowly  descended  the  precipitous  flight  of 
stone  steps  which  form  the  rear  mode  of  egress  from  the 
City  Hall.  Having  safely  reached  the  foot  of  them,  the 
elderly  gentleman  paused,  rubbed  one  hand  gently  over  the 
other,  as  if  congratulating  himself  that  one  of  the  perils  of 
the  day  was  over,  and  then  walked  out  into  the  Park,  and 
deliberately  set  his  watch  by  the  town-clock.  Being  a  cau 
tious  man,  however,  and  one  who  piqued  himself  on  doing 
every  thing  better  than  any  one  else,  and  upon  being  always 
right  when  all  the  rest  of  the  world  was  wrong,  and  on  being 
in  general  superior  to  the  ordinary  run  of  mankind ;  and 
being  aware  that  the  town-clock  had  four  faces,  which  always 
differed  in  opinion  as  to  the  hour ;  and  being  too  knowing  to 
be  taken  in  by  any  small  trick  of  that  kind,  he  winked  to 
himself,  and  took  the  pains  to  make  the  circuit  of  the  build 
ing,  and  successively  to  inspect  each  face  of  the  aforesaid 
public  time-keeper ;  and  having  ascertained  that  the  majority 
was  with  the  one  which  he  had  first  consulted,  he  pulled  his 
waistcoat  very  high  up  in  front,  and  dropped  his  watch  into 
a  small  pocket  in  the  waistband  of  his  trowsers.  After 
which,  he  buttoned  his  coat  and  set  about  his  day's  work 
with  no  little  complacency  and  good-humor. 


HA  RRY    HA  R  SON.  151 

The  direction  which  he  took  led  to  one  of  the  poorer 
parts  of  the  town ;  and  although  he  walked  slowly,  it  was 
not  long  before  he  was  in  the  thick  of  those  narrow,  ill- 
ventilated  streets,  hemmed  in  by  decaying  houses  and  reek 
ing  cellars,  which  proclaim,  plainer  than  words,  that  vice  and 
want,  and  a  thousand  other  ills  which  canker  the  heart,  and 
eat  up  all  that  is  noble  in  human  nature,  are  lurking  in  their 
dark  recesses. 

Mr.  Kipe,  for  he  it  was,  paused  in  front  of  one  of  the  dim 
holes  where  a  dozen  wretched  beings,  ill  clad  and  ill  fed, 
were  herding  together,  and  wondered  why  they  would  live  in 
such  places ;  and  why  they  did  not  pay  more  attention  to  their 
dress ;  for  some  of  them  were  half  naked.  '  It 's  quite  in 
delicate  ! '  said  he,  mentally.  *  Mrs.  Kipe  would  faint  if  she 
saw  it.  I  declare,  I  won't  be  positive  —  no,  yes  —  no ;  yet 
I  do  think  one  of  them  is  a  woman ;  I  really  do  think  that 
rag  is  meant  for  a  petticoat.  It  must  be  a  woman,'  said  he, 
continuing  his  investigations  in  a  cautious  manner.  *  It  is  a 
woman.  Ah  !  it 's  agin  natur'.' 

There  was  no  doubt  of  the  truth  of  his  suspicion  ;  half  of 
them  were  females.  Squatting  and  crouching  there,  they 
raised  their  blear  eyes  toward  him  in  sullen  indifference  ;  too 
miserably  wretched  to  heed  or  resent  the  look  of  disgust  and 
surprise  which  met  theirs,  other  than  by  a  heartless  laugh  or 
a  ribald  jest ;  too  callous  to  feel,  and  too  broken  down  in 
body  and  soul  to  taunt.  The  deputy-sheriff  shook  his  head  : 
for  although  he  had  often  been  amid  scenes  where  the  strong 
heart  was  wrung ;  where  the  debtor,  ground  down  by  cre 
ditors  with  hearts  of  flint  and  eyes  greedy  of  gold,  was 
struggling  beneath  the  fangs  of  the  law,  and  crying  for 
indulgence  and  mercy ;  although  he  had  seen  the  calm,  pale 
look  of  despair ;  the  silent  but  resolute  face  of  the  man  who 
had  parted  with  his  all,  and  finally  yielded  his  body  for  the 


152  HARRY    H ARSON. 

gold  which  he  could  not  pay ;  and  the  wife  clasping  his  neck, 
and  his  children  clinging  to  him ;  ay,  actually  showing  marks 
of  affection  to  a  man  who  was  penniless ;  yet  he  had  rarely 
encountered  a  den  like  this.  He  had  only  witnessed  suffering 
and  despair  in  their  first  stages.  Had  he  desired  to  see  the 
human  soul  when  hope  had  darkened  into  desperation ;  when 
friends  had  fallen  off,  or,  less  painful  than  that,  had  died ; 
when  the  body  had  been  wasted,  and  the  blood  dried  up,  and 
yet  had  yielded  no  gold ;  when  even  that  untiring  thing,  a  cre 
ditor,  had  grown  weary  of  his  prey,  and  had  flung  his  victim 
adrift,  to  find  none  to  sympathise,  no  path  open,  no  home 
left,  and  even  hope  dead ;  he  should  have  lingered  a  little 
longer;  and  in  common  with  the  born  thief,  the  hardened 
courtesan,  the  reeling  drunkard,  and  the  savage  brawler,  he 
would  have  found  those  whom  the  sun  of  prosperity  had 
once  warmed,  and  who  once  had  little  dreamed  in  what  foul 
haunts  they  would  linger  out  the  remnant  of  life  which  was 
yet  in  store  for  them. 

Mr.  Kipe,  however,  having  already  expressed  his  opinion, 
merely  shook  his  head  disapprovingly,  on  concluding  his 
investigation,  and  said  nothing,  but  kept  on,  now  turning 
from  one  narrow  street  into  another ;  at  one  time  stumbling 
along  broken  pavements  and  dilapidated  steps ;  at  another 
half  stifled  with  the  exhalations  which  steamed  up  from 
reeking  kennels  and  under-ground  dwellings,  until  he  finally 
emerged  into  a  broader  street.  Still*  the  dwellings  were  of  a 
poor  character.  Stopping  in  front  of  one  of  these,  he  drew 
out  his  pocket-book,  took  from  it  a  small  slip  of  paper,  looked 
at  it,  then  at  the  house ;  coughed  several  times ;  cleared  his 
throat  emphatically ;  fixed  his  hat  firmly  on  his  head ; 
buttoned  his  coat  to  the  chin,  placed  his  cane  under  his  left 
arm,  and  grasping  the  small  paper  firmly  in  his  right  hand, 
like  one  preparing  for  a  mortal  struggle,  precipitated  himself 


HARRY    H ARSON.  153 

headlong  into  a  dark  alley.  Stumbling  over  a  broken  pail 
and  a  few  of  the  minor  articles  of  a  domestic  description 
which  usually  beset  benighted  alleys  and  dim  stairways,  the 
sheriff's  deputy  finally  caught  sight  of  daylight  in  a  small 
yard  to  which  the  passage  led,  and  found  himself  at  the 
door  of  a  dilapidated  house. 

It  was  a  small  faded  building,  two  stones  high,  sinking 
and  crumbling  away,  like  a  person  weak  in  the  side.  Nar 
row  windows,  cracked  and  dust-covered,  looked  out  into  the 
dark  yard.  A  broken  flower-pot  stood  on  a  window-sill, 
with  a  stunted  bush  in  it,  bearing  a  single  yellow  leaf;  and 
in  another  was  a  half-starved  shrub  bearing  a  drooping 
flower.  On  the  roof,  which  abutted  on  other  roofs,  and  was 
overlooked  by  tall  buildings,  a  lean  cat  was  dozing  in  the 
sun,  as  if  endeavoring  to  forget  hunger  in  sleep.  Every 
thing  bore  the  stamp  of  starvation.  The  windows  were 
patched  with  rags  or  pieces  of  paper;  the  bricks  from 
ruined  chimneys  had  toppled  down,  and  were  lying  in  mass 
es  on  the  roof;  there  were  great  gaping  seams  between  the 
boards,  showing  the  plaster  within  ;  the  door  had  sagged 
away,  and  the  shutters  of  more  than  one  window  hung  by  a 
single  hinge.  On  the  door-steps  a  child  was  sleeping,  and 
from  a  narrow  window  a  thin  face  peeped  cautiously  out, 
wondering  what  a  stranger  could  want  in  that  dreary 
quarter. 

The  sheriff's  .deputy,  however,  was  familiar  with  the 
ground.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  fishing  in  troubled  waters  ; 
and  it  was  not  the  first  time  that  he  had  drawn  from  this 
very  place  food  for  the  gaol. 

Without  asking  a  question,  he  quietly  stepped  over  the 
sleeping  child,  and  stooping  as  he  entered,  to  prevent  his  hat 
coming  in  contact  with  the  top  of  the  low  door-way,  he 
ascended  a  crooked  staircase,  carefully  picking  his  way; 


154  HARRY   HARSON. 

grumbling  at  its  inconvenient  formation,  and  indulging  a  few 
mental  anathemas  against  old  houses  in  general.  At  the 
head  of  the  stairs  a  door  was  ajar ;  and  without  knocking, 
he  pushed  it  open,  entered,  and  shut  it ;  standing  ready  to 
place  his  back  against  it,  in  case  he  should  observe  any  indi 
cation  of  an  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  occupant  to  escape. 
This  precaution,  however,  was  unnecessary ;  for  the  only 
person  there  was  a  man  of  about  forty,  with  a  stern,  resolute- 
face,  a  sharp,  gray  eye,  and  strongly  built,  who  was  writing 
at  a  table,  which,  with  the  exception  of  a  bed  in  a  corner, 
and  two  chairs,  constituted  the  entire  furniture  of  the  room. 
He  merely  looked  up  as  his  visitor  entered,  and  without 
removing  his  eyes  from  him,  said : 

'Methinks  that  common  courtesy  entitles  a  man  to  a 
knock  at  his  door  before  his  room  is  entered.  Though  per 
haps,'  he  added,  bitterly,  *  the  owner  of  such  quarters  as 
these  is  only  entitled  to  courtesy  according  to  his  means.' 

To  neither  of  these  remarks  did  Mr.  Kipe  make  any 
reply ;  but  gradually  sidling  up  to  the  speaker,  until  he 
came  within  arm's  length,  he  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder, 
and  said : 

4 1  arrest  you,  Sir.  It 's  a  very  onpleasant  duty  ;  but  it  is 
a  duty,  and  must  be  done.  Here  's  the  writ.' 

The  man  eyed  him  for  a  moment,  apparently  meditating 
what  course  to  pursue ;  while  Mr.  Kipe  grasped  the  head  of 
the  dog  on  his  cane,  and  assumed  an  air  of  desperate  deter 
mination.  At  last  the  man  took  the  paper  from  his  hand, 
and  read  it  through,  without  moving  or  speaking,  although 
his  face  became  somewhat  flushed,  as  he  read.  Then  he 
merely  uttered  the  words,  '  Michael  Rust ! ' 

'  He 's  the  plaintiff,'  said  Mr.  Kipe,  '  and  you  are  the  de 
fendant,  Enoch  Grosket.  It 's  onpleasant,  Sir,  quite  onplea- 
aant ;  but  I  'm  a  deputy-sheriff,  Sir ;  and  you  're  a  defendant ; 


HARRY    H ARSON.  155 

and  here  's  the  writ ;  and  duty  must  be  done.     That 's  the 
long  and  short  of  it.' 

*  So  this  is  the  end  of  the  game,'  said  Grosket  to  himself ; 
1  this  the  reward  of  five  years  of  servitude,  the  most  vile  and 
degraded  that  ever  bound  man  to  his  fellow-man.     A  noble 
harvest  have  I  reaped  for  the  seed  that  I  have  sown !  —  a 
glorious  close  to  my  labors  !     But  it  is  what  I  might  have 
looked  for.     Ah  !  Michael  Rust !  well  have  you  carried  out 
your  schemes  !  —  a  pleasant  part  have  you  played  in  my 
family  !     You  have  sent  child  and  wife  both  to  their  graves; 
the  one  dishonored,  the  other  broken-hearted ;  and  now,  a 
prison  for  the  father.     Be  it  so,  Michael  Rust ;  but  the  game 
is  not  yours  yet.     If  you  win  it,  it  must  be  at  the  cost  of  a 
struggle  which  will  rack  all  your  sinews.     I  do  not  under 
stand  this  claim,'  said  he,  in  a  musing  tone  ;  "three  thousand 
dollars  ! '     I  owe  him  nothing.     What  can  it  be  ?     'Edward 
Kornicker,  attorney.'     Who  's  he  ? '  he   asked,  raising  his 
eyes  from  the  paper  to  those  of  Mr.  Kipe.     *  I  never  heard 
of  him.' 

Mr.  Kipe  drew  down  the  corners  of  his  mouih,  and  smiled ; 
at  the  same  time  saying,  that  Mr.  Kornicker  was  a  young 
man  of  some  merit,  but  rather  wild  —  a  little  wild. 

Having  said  this,  he  took  a  seat  in  the  vacant  chair,  and 
placed  his  hat  on  the  table ;  at  the  same  time  telling  Mr. 
Grosket  that  if  he  had  any  bail  to  offer,  he  would  go  with 
him  in  search  of  it.  If  he  had  n't,  he  would  be  under  the 
less  pleasant  necessity  of  escorting  him  to  jail ;  and  in  either 
ease,  that  he,  the  said  Mr.  Kipe,  being  a  public  functionary, 
and  much  pressed  by  business,  would  take  it  as  a  personal 
favor  if  Mr.  Grosket  would  hasten  his  movements  as  much 
as  possible. 

Grosket  shook  his  head  despairingly. 

*  No,'  said  he ;  *  the  sum  is  too  large  —  six  thousand  dol 


156  HARRY    U ARSON. 

lars  !  I  know  no  one  who  will  become  bail  for  me  in  such 
an  amount.  Had  it  come  but  a  day  later,  one  single  day 
later,'  said  he,  clasping  his  hands  tightly  together,  *  he,  not  /, 
would  have  been  the  victim  !' 

'  Well,  Sir,'  said  Mr.  Kipe,  *  there  being  no  bail,  in  course 
there  is  no  alternative.  You  must  go  to  gaol ;  rooms  small, 
but  well  ventilated.  You  '11  find  yourself  very  comfortable 
there  arter  a  fortnight  or  so.  There  is  folks  that  quite  like 
the  place.' 

Grosket  made  no  reply  to  this  comforting  remark ;  but 
stood  with  his  hand  resting  on  the  table,  and  his  brows  knit 
in  deep  thought.  At  last  he  said,  as  if  coming  to  some  sud 
den  resolution : 

'At  least,  it's  worth  the  trial.  I  am  working  for  him, 
and  if  I  fail,  I  shall  be  no  worse  off  than  I  now  am.  Come,> 
said  he ;  'I  know  a  man  who  I  think  will  became  bail  for 
me.  If  he  do  n't — if  he  do  n't,'  said  he  in  an  under-tone — 
'Well,  well,  I'll  try  it.' 

'  Who  is  he  ? '  inquired  Mr.  Kipe,  cautiously. 

'  No  matter,'  replied  Grosket ;  '  you  '11  see  presently.' 

Mr.  Kipe  felt  far  from  satisfied  with  this  reply.  It  had 
the  appearance  of  evasion ;  and  a  vague  apprehension  of, 
receiving  no  other  bail  than  that  cheap  and  convenient  kind, 
generally  known  as  '  leg-bail,'  flitted  across  his  imagination, 
puzzling  him  not  a  little  ;  for  Grosket  was  a  brawny  fellow, 
whose  thews  and  sinews  were  not  to  be  trifled  with.  Mr. 
Kipe  thought  that  he  was  in  a  crisis ;  and  was  beginning 
to  deliberate  seriously  on  the  propriety  of  raising  a  hue-and- 
cry  on  the  spot,  without  waiting  for  further  indication  of  a 
disposition  to  escape,  when  the  prisoner,  apparently  observ 
ing  his  perplexity,  cut  it  short  by  adding : 

'  Do  n't  be  frightened,  my  old  fellow ;  I  'm  acting  in  good 


HARRY    HARSON.  157 

faith.  If  I  do  n't  get  bail,  I  '11  go  with  you  as  quietly  as  you 
could  wish.' 

'And  you  are  out-and-out  in  earnest  ?  You  mean  to  get 
it  ?  No  gammon,  is  there  ? ' 

"  I  '11  get  it  if  I  can :  if  I  can't,  I  'm  your  prisoner.  I  '11 
play  you  no  tricks.' 

*  Good ! '  ejaculated  the  deputy-sheriff,  quietly  pocketing 
his  writ,  and  placing  his  hat  on  his  head.  I  'm  your  man 
now  :  which  way  do  you  want  to  go  ? J 

Grosket  named  the  direction  ;  and  in  a  few  moments  they 
were  on  their  way  to  Jacob  Rhoneland's. 


158  HARRY    HARSON. 


CHAPTER     XIV. 

FOR  a  long  time  Enoch  Grosket  and  the  sheriff's  deputy 
walked  on  without  exchanging  a  word ;  but  as  they  proceeded, 
Grosket's  brow  began  to  darken,  his  lips  were  firmly  set  to 
gether,  and  his  pace  quickened  until  his  companion  could 
scarcely  keep  up  with  him. 

'  Come  on,  Sir,'  said  Enoch,  abruptly  turning  to  him. 
'  Michael  Rust  is  the  Devil,  but  he  has  driven  to  desperation 
one  whom  he  has  drilled  in  all  his  ways,  and  who  has  had 
a  hand  in  all  his  doings  for  years.  Would  to  God  he  could 
say  they  were  all  what  they  should  have  been  !  Let  him 
look  to  himself.  He  may  chain  the  body,  but  my  tongue 
shall  speak.  Ah  !  Michael  Rust !  Michael  Rust !  you  were 
never  nearer  destruction  than  when  you  thought  me  in  your 
power ! ' 

His  speed  soon  increased  to  such  a  degree,  that  although 
Mr.  Kipe  had  apparently  been  constituted  with  an  especial 
eye  to  rapid  locomotion,  yet  that  gentleman's  lower  members 
were  kept  at  their  full  stretch.  Once  or  twice  the  deputy 
suggested  to  his  companion  that  the  day  was  warm  for  the 
season,  and  that  he  had  been  more  active  twenty  years  ago ; 
to  both  of  which  remarks  Grosket  assented,  without  in  the 
least  diminishing  his  speed  ;  nor  did  he  pause  to  draw  breath 
until  they  had  reached  Rhoneland's  house. 

'  This  is  the  place,'  said  Grosket.  *  If  he  's  wise,  he  '11  not 
refuse  me.' 

He  knocked  at  the  door,  which  was  opened  by  Kate.  She 
knew  neither  of  them ;  and  in  reply  to  his  question,  informed 
him  that  her  father  was  at  home.  Grosket  paused  for  a 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  159 

moment  as  his  eye  rested  on  her  bright  face ;  and  some 
thing  like  a  tear  rose  in  it,  as  he  thought  of  his  own  lost 
child  ;  but  he  checked  the  feeling  which  induced  it,  and  turn 
ing,  said : 

*  So  you  're  his  daughter  ? ' 

'  His  only  child,'  replied  Kate,  anxiously. 

4  Poor  child  ! '  muttered  Grosket ;  '  God  help  her  ! ' 

He  muttered  this  rather  to  himself  than  to  her,  and  passed 
in  ;  but  neither  his  manner  nor  the  words,  low  as  was  the 
tone  in  which  they  were  spoken,  escaped  her ;  and  with  a 
heart  sinking  with  apprehension  of  she  knew  not  what  —  for 
the  appearance  of  any  stranger  at  the  house  filled  her  with 
dread  now  —  she  admitted  him  into  the  room  where  her  father 
was. 

It  was  the  same  poorly-furnished  apartment  in  which  the 
old  man  was  when  first  introduced  to  the  reader.  He  occu 
pied  the  same  seat,  and  sat  almost  in  the  same  attitude,  with 
his  hands  clasped  over  his  knees,  his  chin  bowed  down  on 
his  breast,  his  dark  eyes  peering  from  beneath  his  shaggy 
white  brows,  and  apparently  watching  the  crumbling  embers 
in  the  fire-place.  His  face  was  wan  and  haggard,  even  be 
yond  its  wont ;  and  he  had  a  watchful,  suspicious  look,  which 
was  not  natural  to  him.  As  the  door  opened,  he  started, 
glanced  quickly  at  the  strangers,  then  at  his  daughter,  as  if 
she  and  they  were  in  some  manner  associated  in  his  mind. 

'  Do  n't  go,  Kate  !  do  n't  go  !  I  want  you  here,'  said  he, 
in  a  quick,  anxious  tone,  seeing  that  she  was  closing  the 
door  without  entering ;  *  do  n't  go,  my  child.  Our  business 
is  no  secret.' 

As  he  said  this,  he  cast  an  inquiring  look  at  the  two,  to 
ascertain  that  he  was  correct,  and  pointed  with  a  hesitating 
finger  to  a  chair. 

Mr.  Kipe  bowed  gratefully,  took  it  immediately,  removed 


160  HARRY    H ARSON. 

his  hat,  placed  his  cane  between  his  knees,  ran  his  fingers 
through  his  hair,  and  looked  up  at  the  ceiling,  after  the 
manner  of  persons  who  are  occasionally  present  at  interviews 
in  which  they  have  no  concern,  and  in  which  they  have  no 
intention  of  meddling. 

Grosket,  however,  stood  where  he  was,  with  his  hat  on, 
looking  steadily  in  the  agitated  face  of  the  old  man.  At  last 
he  said  : 

*  So  you  do  n't  know  me  ? ' 

Rhoneland  eyed  him  for  a  long  time  ;  at  last  he  shook  his 
head. 

*  Yet  you  ought  to,'  said  Grosket,  in  the  same  tone.  '  Look 
at  me  again.' 

Again  the  old  man  bent  his  eyes  upon  his  face,  and  studied 
his  features ;  and  certainly  they  were  not  of  a  character  to 
be  easily  forgotten  ;  but  again  he  was  at  fault ;  he  did  not 
know  him. 

*  It  is  strange ! '  muttered  the  other ;  '  a  friend  is  often 
forgotten,  but  an  enemy  rarely.     My  name  is  Grosket  — 
Enoch  Grosket.' 

A  bright  flush  passed  over  the  old  man's  face  as  he  heard 
the  name,  and  he  half  rose  from  his  chair.  *  Yes,  yes,'  said 
he,  quickly  ;  *  I  know  now ;  the  friend  of  Michael  Rust. 
Kate,'  said  he,  suddenly  turning  to  the  girl,  who  was  leaning 
over  his  chair;  'you  can  go  —  go,  Kate  ;  leave  the  room, 
my  child.  This  is  only  a  friend  of  Mr.  Rust's.' 

'  It 's  scarcely  worth  while,'  said  Grosket,  *  for  what  I  have 
to  say  of  Rust  will  soon  be  spoken  in  the  open  day ;  ay,  in 
his  teeth  will  I  fling  my  charges ;  before  the  whole  world 
will  I  make  them ;  I  will  brand  him  with  a  mark  that  he 
will  carry  to  his  grave !  No,  no,  Jacob  Rhoneland.  I  'm 
not  a  friend  of  Michael  Rust,  and  he  '11  find  it  so.  I  've  too 
many  wrongs  to  settle  with  him,  for  that.' 

*  Not  a  friend  of  his  ! '  ejaculated  Rhoneland  :  *  then  what 


HARRY    HARSON.  161 

brings  you  here  ?  Do  n't  you  know  that  I  am  his  friend  ?  — 
an  old  friend  ?  He  calls  me  his  best  friend.' 

Grosket's  lip  curled,  as  he  answered  : 

'-That  friendship  has  lasted  too  long  for  the  good  of  one 
of  you.  I  need  not  mention  who  that  one  is.  I  am  come 
to  end  it.  He  was  my  friend  once.  God  save  me  from 
another  like  him !  God  !  how  he  loved  me  ! '  said  he,  set 
ting  his  teeth  ;  '  and  in  return,'  added  he,  in  a  cold  tone, 
*  do  n't  I  love  him  ?  Such  a  love  !  Give  me  but  life 
and  liberty,  life  and  liberty,'  said  he,  dropping  his  assumed 
tone,  and  breaking  out  in  a  burst  of  fierce  vehemence,  *  and 
by  every  hope  that  man  can  have,  I  swear  to  crush  him  ; 
to  grind  him  to  the  earth,  body  and  soul ;  to  blight  him  as 
he  has  blighted  others ;  and,  as  far  as  man  can  do  so,  to  thwart 
every  scheme,  wither  every  hope,  and  to  make  him  drag  out 
his  life,  a  vile,  spurned,  detested  object,  hated  by  man,  driven 
from  the  pale  of  society,  with  every  transgression  stamped 
upon  him,  and  beyond  redemption  in  this  world  !  What  his 
prospects  may  be  hereafter,  none  can  tell  but  HE.'  He  raised 
his  hat  reverently  as  he  spoke,  and  his  tone,  from  high 
excitement,  calmed  into  deep  solemnity. 

'  My  errand  here,'  said  he,  turning  to  Rhoneland,  '  is  sim 
ple  ;  my  story  a  short  one.  I  was  Michael  Rust's  friend  — 
his  tool,  if  you  will.  Through  his  agency  I  am  a  beggar, 
and  my  wife  and  child  are  in  their  graves.  This  did  not 
satisfy  him.  I  am  now  arrested  at  his  suit  for  a  debt  of 
three  thousand  dollars.  I  cannot  pay  it.  I  have  not  that 
sum  in  the  world ;  but  I  cannot  go  to  prison.  It  would 
frustrate  all  my  views.  I  must  be  at  large  to  work.  Let 
me  have  but  a  month  of  freedom,  and  Michael  Rust  will 
be  glad  to  exonerate  me  from  all  claims,  and  to  beg  me  on 
his  knees  to  stand  his  friend.  I  am  come  to  ask  you  to  be 
my  bail.  The  sum  is  six  thousand  dollars.' 

*  Me !    me  ! '  exclaimed   Rhoneland  ;    *  I  your   bail !  and 


162  HARRY    H ARSON. 

against  Michael  Rust !  —  my  friend  Rust !     Oh,  no  ;  never, 
never ! ' 

'  It 's  more  for  your  interest  than  mine,'  replied  Grosket, 
calmly.  '  If  you  do  not,  you  '11  repent  it.' 

Rboneland  twisted  his  fingers  together,  and  looked  irreso 
lutely  at  his  daughter,  and  at  the  deputy,  and  then  at  Gros 
ket,  as  if  seeking  counsel  in  their  faces.  At  last  he  said,  in 
a  querulous  tone : 

'  You're  a  stranger  to  me.  I  do  n't  know  you.  Why  jdo 
you  speak  in  riddles  ?  Why  do  you  come  here  to  harass  a 
broken-down  old  man  ?  What  do  you  mean  ? ' 

'  I  mean  this]  replied  Grosket :  '  Michael  Rust  is  your 
friend  because  you  dare  not  be  his  enemy.  You  love  him 
because  you  dare  not  hate  him.  You  would  think  it  the 
brightest  day  of  your  life  when  he  left  your  door  to  darken 
it  no  more.  He  has  a  hold  on  your  fears,  which  he  will 
make  the  means  of  ruin  to  you,  and  of  wretchedness  to  those 
dearer  to  you  than  yourself.  I  speak  of  her]  said  he,  seeing 
the  old  man  looking  timidly  at  Kate,  who  still  hung  over 
his  chair,  pale  as  death,  but  listening  to  every  word.  'I 
know  his  secrets,  the  tools  with  which  he  works ;  the  very 
falsehood  which  he  has  fabricated  against  you,  which  you 
cannot  disprove,  but  which  /  can.' 

'  Falsehood  ! '  ejaculated  Rhoneland. 

'  Yes,  falsehood.  The  time  is  come  when,  even  with  you, 
he  must  stand  revealed  in  his  true  character.' 

He  stepped  close  to  Rhoneland  and  whispered  a  few  words 
in  his  ear.  The  old  man  sank  back  in  his  chair,  his  jaw  re 
laxed,  and  his  eyes  half  started  from  his  head.  His  pros 
tration  lasted  but  for  a  moment.  The  next  instant  he  started 
up,  made  a  step  toward  Grosket,  and  grasped  his  hand  in 
both  of  his. 

'  Can  you  save  me  ?  can  you  save  me  ?  can  you  prove  it 
untrue  ? '  gasped  he ;  *  Oh !  do  —  c?o,  for  God's  sake ! ' 


HARRY   HARSON.  163 

'  I  can,'  replied  Grosket. 

'And  can  you  save  her,  her?  my  own  child? '  exclaimed 
he,  pointing  to  his  daughter.  '  He  would  get  her  in  his  toils 
also.' 

*  So  help  me  God,  I  think  I  can  ! '  said  Grosket,  earnestly ; 
*  but  to  do  so,  I  must  be  free ;  free  only  for  one  month.  If 
I  fail,  the  gaol  may  have  its  prey.  Get  me  that  delay,  and 
I  have  no  fears  for  the  rest.' 

'  Here's  the  document,'  said  Mr.  Kipe,  emerging  from  a 
profound  revery,  at  the  very  moment  that  it  was  most  requi 
site  that  his  wits  should  be  present,  and  producing  a  paper. 
'  I  '11  fill  it  up ;  you  can  sign  it  to  once-t,  and  acknowledge 
it  arterward.' 

Rhoneland  had  reached  out  his  hand  to  take  the  paper, 
but  suddenly  he  hesitated  and  drew  it  back. 

'Must  he  know  this? '  inquired  he.  'Is  there  no  way  in 
which  it  can  be  kept  from  him  ? ' 

Grosket  looked  at  the  deputy,  who  looked  at  the  wall,  and 
said  that  he  'didn't  know  as  it  could  be  perwented,  con 
venient.' 

'  Then  you  must  choose  between  us,'  said  Grosket,  coldly. 
'  I  have  said  enough  to  satisfy  you  that  I  have  the  same 
power  over  you  that  Rust  has,  did  I  but  choose  to  exert  it. 
In  suffering  me  to  go  to  prison,  you  are  permitting  him  to 
fetter  the  only  person  who  can  defeat  his  schemes,  who  can 
free  you  from  his  control,  and  prevent  your  child  from 
being  —  Mrs.  Rust.' 

'  I  'd  die  first !  I  'd  die  first ! '  exclaimed  the  old  man,  fran- 
ticly.  '  Me  he  might  sacrifice,  but  he  shall  not  harm  you, 
Kate.  I  '11  do  it,  I  '11  do  it,  for  your  sake,  my  child  ! '  said  he, 
turning  to  her,  and  clasping  her  convulsively  to  him.  '  Come 
vvhat  may,  I  '11  do  it.  Come,  Sir ;  I  'm  ready,'  said  he.  '  I  '11 


164  HARRY   HARSON. 

go  at  once.  Lose  no  time,  not  a  minute.  Why  do  you 
wait  ? '  said  he,  impatiently. 

Without  heeding  him,  Grosket  went  up  to  Kate,  and  took 
her  hand  respectfully  :  '  Trust  me,  no  harm  will  come  of  this 
to  him.  At  all  events,  none  compared  with  what  would 
have  befallen  both  of  you,  had  Michael  Rust  succeeded  in 
his  plans.  If  ever  there  was  a  man  in  this  world  in  whom 
the  Devil  sqems  to  live  and  move,  it  is  Michael  Rust.  His 
sagacity  and  shrewdness  have  hitherto  given  him  success ; 
and  hitherto  he  has  laughed  at  law,  and  baffled  detection ; 
but  his  race  is  nearly  run.  He  or  I  must  fall ;  and  of  this 
one  thing  I  am  certain,  /  shall  not.  Now,  Sir,'  said  he, 
turning  to  Rhoneland,  'we'll  go.  But  I 'rn  puzzled  where 
to  look  for  another  bail.' 

'  I  sha'  n't  be  perticklar  about  that,'  said  Mr.  Kipe,  quietly ; 
'  I  know  something  about  Jacob  Rhoneland,  and  he  's  good 
enough  for  me.  We  '11  get  this  acknowledged,  and  then  you 
may  go.' 

Rhoneland  went  to  the  door,  and  opening  it,  led  the  way 
into  the  street. 

Many  important  events  in  life  balance  upon  the  acts  of  a 
moment ;  and  had  Rhoneland  lingered  five  minutes  longer, 
he  would  never  have  linked  himself  to  Grosket ;  for  not  that 
time  had  elapsed  after  their  departure,  when  the  door  of  the 
room  where  Kate  was  still  sitting  alone  was  opened,  and 
Michael  Rust  entered.  His  look  was  eager,  and  his  usually 
slow,  shuffling  step  was  rapid. 

*  Where  's  Jacob  V  said  he,  looking  round. 
'  He  's  gone  out,'  replied  Kate,  coldly. 

*  Gone  out ! '  repeated  he ;  and  then  suddenly  changing 
his  manner,  he  said:  'Well,  I  wanted  him;  but  he  has  left 
you  in  his  place.     It  was  kind  in  him.     He  knew  that  I  was 


HARRY   HARSON.  165 

coming,  Kate  ;  that  I  doted  on  you  ;  that  there  was  nothing 
I  loved  like  a  little  chat  with  you,  and  he  could  n't  have  the 
heart  to  disappoint  me ;  so  he  let  you  remain.  Ah  !  Kate ! 
troubles  are  thickening  upon  me.  Do  n't  you  sympathize 
with  me,  Kate  ?  I  know  you  do.  I  'in  sure  you  do.  You  're 
a  noble  girl ! ' 

As  he  spoke,  he  advanced  and  took  her  hand.  Kate 
drew  it  from  him  with  an  air  of  marked  coldness ;  but  not 
at  all  discouraged,  he  said : 

'The  sweetest  hour  of  my  life  is  when  I  steal  away  to  sit 
by  your  side,  Kate ;  to  gaze  in  your  face,  and  watch  your 
eye  as  it  peeps  from  under  its  long  lashes,  and  the  smile  of 
your  pouting,  cherry  lip.  Ah  !  Kate  ! ' 

'  Mr.  Rust,  this  is  really  very  unpleasant,'  said  Kate,  with 
some  anger  in  her  manner.  'As  my  father's  friend,  you 
come  to  this  house.  As  his  friend,  also,  you  should  not 
forget  what  is  due  to  his  daughter,  and  should  refrain  from 
a  style  of  conversation  which  cannot  but  be  offensive.' 

'  How  sweetly  she  speaks ! '  continued  Rust,  in  his  old 
strain ;  '  how  charmingly  she  looks  when  excited  !  Ah  ! 
Kate,  you're  a  little  devil ;  you  've  made  sad  havoc  here  ! ' 
said  he,  placing  his  hand  on  his  heart  — '  sad  havoc  ! ' 

'  Mr.  Rust,'  returned  Kate,  angrily,  '  unless  you  end  this 
conversation,  either  you  or  I  must  leave  the  room.' 

'  I  do  n't  believe  you  're  in  earnest,  Kate ;  on  my  soul,  I 
do  n't ;  but  I  will  drop  it.  But  one  favor  —  grant  me  only 
one  favor.  It 's  not  a  great  one.  I  know  you  '11  grant  it, 
you  're  such  an  angel.' 

Kate  looked  at  him  without  speaking,  and  he  went  on  : 

'  One  kiss,  Kate ;  one  single  sweet  kiss  from  my  own 
dear  darling,  to  comfort  me  amid  my  misfortunes  ! ' 

Kate  Rhoneland  started  up,  her  eyes  flashing  fire.  '  Leave 
this  house,  Sir!' 


166  HARRY    HARSON. 

1  Ho !  ho  !  how  sweetly  she  orders  ! '  exclaimed  Rust,  ad 
vancing  toward  her ;  *  how  bright  her  eyes  are !  how  the 
rich  color  plays  along  her  cheek !  how  beautiful  my  own 
Kate  is  !  *  Leave  this  house,'  indeed !  The  thing 's  impos 
sible,  with  such  a  charmer  within  it.  Come,  Kate;  one 
kiss  —  only  one ;  I  '11  tell  no  one,  not  even  Ned.  Upon  my 
soul,  I  won't  tell  Ned.' 

Kate  made  an  attempt  to  spring  past  him,  but  he  caught 
her  by  her  dress,  drew  her  to  him,  threw  his  arms  about  her 
waist,  and  pressed  his  lips  to  hers. 

It  was  a  dear  kiss  to  him ;  for  while  she  was  struggling 
in  his  grasp,  the  door  opened,  a  heavy  blow  lighted  on  his 
head,  and  he  fell  like  a  sfone  on  the  floor. 

'  If  he 's  dead,  be  it  so ! '  said  a  stern  voice.  But  it  was 
not  so. 

For  a  moment  he  lay  like  one  who  had  seen  his  last  sun ; 
then  he  staggered  up,  pressed  his  hands  to  his  temples,  looked 
about  him  with  a  bewildered  air,  until  his  eyes  encoun 
tered  those  of  Jacob  Rhoneland,  bright  with  passion,  and 
his  whole  frame  quivering  with  rage.  Gradually  Rust's 
faculties  began  to  rally,  until  he  and  Rhoneland  stood  gaz 
ing  face  to  face. 

'  So  it  was  you,  was  it,  good  Jacob  ? '  said  he,  moving  to 
the  door.  '  Thank  you,  my  kind  friend ;  I  '11  not  forget  you  ! 
Farewell,  good  Jacob.  To  your  dying-day  you  shall  have 
cause  to  remember  that  you  struck  Michael  Rust.'  He 
bowed  profoundly  to  them,  shut  the  door,  and  went  out. 


HARRY    HARSON.  167 


CHAPTER    XV. 

MORE  than  a  week  had  elapsed  since  the  rupture  between 
Rhoneland  and  Rust ;  and  during  that  period  Jacob  neither 
saw  him  nor  heard  from  him.  But  in  that  interval  he  had 
become  confirmed  in  his  purpose  of  resistance ;  and  had  re 
solved  to  risk  any  thing,  rather  than  submit  to  the  mental 
bondage  which  had  hitherto  crushed  him.  Steadfast  in  this 
purpose,  he  quietly  awaited  the  movements  of  his  adversary. 

On  one  fine  afternoon,  the  bright  rays  of  a  setting  sun 
streaming  through  the  window  fell  upon  the  face  of  the  old 
man,  as  he  was  dozing  in  his  room,  and  awakened  him. 
Starting  to  his  feet,  and  casting  his  eyes  hurriedly  about 
him,  he  exclaimed :  '  I  tell  you,  no ;  I  tell  you,  no,  Michael 
Rust.  It  shall  never  be !  Ah,  Kate  ! '  said  he,  looking  about 
the  room,  and  seeing  no  one  except  his  daughter,  'it's  you, 
is  it  ?  —  only  you  ?  And  I've  been  dreaming  ?  Well,  well ; 
thank  God  it  was  no  worse !  It 's  strange  I  should  have 
dreamed  that  Michael  Rust  wanted  you,  Kate,  and  asked  for 
you.  But  no  matter;  kiss  me,  child.  We've  done  with 
him.  There's  a  comfort  in  that.  We  shall  be  quite  happy — 
happy  as  we  once  were.  Shall  we  not,  Kate  ? ' 

Kate's  lips  quivered,  as  she  pressed  them  to  his  forehead ; 
and  there  was  a  busy  little  voice  at  her  heart,  which  whis 
pered  a  name,  and  brought  up  recollections  that  nearly 
choked  her,  as  she  said,  in  a  low  tone,  *  Quite  happy.' 

'But,  Kate,'  said  her  father,  placing  an  arm  about  her 
waist,  while  he  put  back  her  hair  with  his  other  hand,  and 
looked  anxiously  in  her  face,  '  you  do  n't  say,  happy  as  in 
old  times.1 


168  HARRY    HAR80N. 

Kate  was  silent.  "What  could  she  say,  when  her  young 
heart  was  breaking  ?  But  at  last  she  did  say  : 

*  It  certainly  will  make  me  happier,  much  happier,  than  I 
have  been,  to  know  that  you  are  once  more  yourself;  that 
that  evil,  daring  man  has  lost  his  influence  over  you,  never 
to  regain  it ;  and  that  there  is  nothing  to  harass  you  and 
break  you  down,  as  there  once  was.  All  this  makes  me 
quite  happy.  Indeed  it  does  I '  But  there  was  that  in  her 
tone  which  belied  her  words,  and  Rhoneland  observed  it. 

'Ah !  child,  child ! '  said  he,  shaking  his  head  sorrowfully, 
' I  see  it  all.  Ned  Somers  has  much  to  answer  for.  I  loved 
and  trusted  him.  God  forgive  him  that  he  meditated  so  vile 
a  wrong.  lie  was  to  me  as  my  own  son.  Had  he  loved 
you,  Kate,  openly  and  honorably,  as  a  man  should,  and  as 
you  deserve  to  be  loved,  and  had  he  asked  you  from  me,  I 
would  not  have  said  no,  Kate.  But  he  acted  like  a  villain  ; 
and  I've  cast  him  off  for  ever.' 

Kate  became  very  pale,  and  her  voice  grew  thick  and 
husky,  as  she  asked :  '  Father,  will  you  answer  me  a 
question  ? ' 

'  Yes,  Kate,  a  hundred,'  said  he,  drawing  her  more  closely  to 
him.  '  I  '11  sit  here  all  day  long,  and  answer  you.  Now  that 
he  is  gone,  I  feel  quite  young  and  boyish  again  ;  and  nothing 
gladdens  me  more  than  your  voice.  Now  go  on.  What 
is  it?' 

The  girl  took  his  hand  in  both  hers,  and  looking  steadily 
in  his  face,  asked :  '  Who  told  you  the  tale  which  set  you 
against  Ned  ? ' 

4  Who  ? '  inquired  Rhoneland  ;  '  who  ?   Why,  he  —  Rust.' 

'And  have  you  never  found,  in  the  course  of  your  dealings 
with  that  man,  that  he  could  forget  or  pervert  the  truth  ;  or 
even  invent  a  falsehood,  when  it  served  his  own  purpose  ? ' 

Jacob  Rhoneland  laughed  to  himself,  in  a  low  chuckling 


HARRY    H ARSON.  169 

tone,  and  rubbed  his  hands.  'What!  lie?  —  Rust  lie?  Bless 
you,  child,  he  does  nothing  else.  Ha !  ha !  He 's  a  deep  one, 
depend  on  it.' 

'And  can  you  see  no  reason  for  his  traducing  Ned  ? '  said 
she,  the  blood  mounting  to  her  face  as  she  spoke.  '  Was 
there  no  plan  of  his  which  Ned's  presence  here  crossed,  and 
which  rendered  it  necessary  to  prejudice  you  against  him  ? ' 

The  old  man  pondered ;  looked  at  her,  and  then  at  the 
floor;  and  at  last  sank  back  in  his  chair,  in  a  deep  and  un 
pleasant  revery,  from  which  he  was  only  aroused  by  a 
knock  at  the  door.  *  Go  to  your  room,  Kate.  It 's  Enoch. 
I  '11  open  the  door  myself.' 

Kate  had  scarcely  left  the  room,  and  Jacob  had  not  yet 
risen  to  obey  the  summons,  when  the  door  of  the  apartment 
opened,  and  Michael  Rust  walked  in,  as  quietly  and  serenely 
as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

'Good-evening,  friend  Jacob,'  said  he,  bowing  low,  and 
speaking  in  his  softest  tone.  '  I  'm  here  again,  you  see.  I 
could  not  give  you  up  so  soon.  I  could  not  let  a  trifling 
misunderstanding  break  off  old  friendship.  I  hadn't  the 
heart  to  do  it,  good  Jacob.  There  was  a  severe  struggle 
between  pride  and  friendship,  but  friendship  gained  the  day ; 
and  I  have  come  with  an  open  heart  to  offer  you  my  most 
humble  apology,  and  to  ask  you  to  forget  and  forgive.  I 
feel  that  I  took  an  unwarrantable  liberty  with  Kate ;  but  I 
loved  her,  Jacob,  and  was  hurried  too  far  by  my  feelings. 
I  was  wrong,  and  you  acted  as  a  father  should.  Let  us  forget 
the  past,  and  be  as  we  were.' 

Michael  extended  his  hand  to  him  as  he  spoke ;  but 
Rhoneland  neither  took  it,  nor  looked  at  it  nor  at  him,  nor 
uttered  a  word  in  reply ;  but  sat  looking  out  of  the  window, 
as  if  he  heard  not  a  word. 

What  was  it  that  bowed  the  bold,  bad  man,  who  had 
8 


170  HARRY    H ARSON. 

never  yielded  to  Rhoneland  before,  but  had  trodden  on  hic 
very  neck,  mocking  at  his  sufferings,  jeering  at  his  agony  of 
mind;  returning  threats  for  supplications,  and  taunts  for 
tears ;  and  now  brought  him  a  suppliant  to  his  feet  ?  Was 
it  that  strange,  mysterious  feeling  which  sometimes  tells  a 
man  that  the  hour  of  his  fate  is  approaching,  and  that  his 
time  is  measured  ?  Was  the  coming  storm  flinging  its 
shadow  over  his  path  ?  Did  he  feel  the  earth  sinking  beneath 
his  feet ;  and  was  he  glad  to  grasp  even  at  a  decayed  and 
shattered  branch  to  hold  him  up  ?  Or  was  it  a  part  of  a  deeper 
policy  ?  and  was  there  yet  something  to  be  gained  by  clinging 
to  his  former  dupe  ?  It  may  have  been  a  mixture  of  all  these 
feelings ;  but  certain  it  is  that  there  he  was  ;  the  same  bow 
ing,  cringing  hypocrite,  with  a  tongue  of  oil  and  a  heart  of 
flint,  endeavoring  by  soothing  words  and  fawning  lies  once 
more  to  win  back  the  man  who  had  turned  his  back  upon 
him.  And  equally  certain  it  is,  that  a  more  unyielding,  im 
penetrable,  imperturbable  piece  of  humanity  he  had  never 
met  with ;  for  to  all  his  fine  sentences,  allurements,  and 
artifices  of  every  kind,  he  received  no  reply. 

'  This  tack  won't  do,'  thought  Rust.  '  He  won't  swallow 
honey.  I  '11  give  him  wormwood ;  but  before  that,  one  more 
attempt. 

'  Jacob,  my  friend,'  said  he,  drawing  a  chair  nearer  to  him, 
seating  himself,  and  sinking  his  voice;  'perhaps  you  think  I 
meant  ill  about  your  daughter  ? ' 

The  old  man  moved  "restlessly,  but  was  silent.  Rust  saw 
that  he  had  touched  the  theme  which  would  arouse  him. 

'  You  were  mistaken,  my  friend.  Would  that  the  inton 
tions  of  all  were  as  pure  as  mine.' 

'Speak  of  something  else,'  replied  Rhoneland,  abruptly 
*  I  '11  not  hear  you  on  that  subject.' 

'But  you  must,'  said  Rust;   'indeed  you  must,  my  old 


HARRY    HARSO.V.  m 

friend.  Not  that  I  would  annoy  you  ;  but  I  came  here  for 
that  express  purpose,  and  must  speak  of  her.' 

Rhoneland  looked  keenly  at  him,  and  then  at  the  floor, 
grasping  the  sides  of  the  chair  firmly,  as  if  to  restrain  him 
self  from  violence,  and  Rust  went  on. 

'  I  'in  a  man  of  few  words,  Jacob.  Kate 's  a  dear,  sweet 
girl.  I  love  her  ;  she  loves  me.  Will  you  give  her  to  me 
for  a  wife  ? ' 

'  It 's  false  ! '  said  Rhoneland,  starting  to  his  feet.  '  If 
there  be  a  single  person  in  this  world  whom  Kate  hates 
more  than  another,  it  is  you  ?  Give  her  to  you  for  a  wife ! ' 
exclaimed  he,  in  a  bitter  tone ;  *  give  her  to  you  —  YOU  ! 
I  'd  see  her  in  her  coffin  first !  Go,  Michael  Rust,'  said  he, 
extending  his  hands  toward  him  ;  '  your  power  is  at  an  end 
in  this  house.  Go  ! ' 

'  Not  quite,  good  Jacob ! '  said  Rust,  in  a  low,  fierce  tone. 
'  Not  quite,  good  Jacob !  I  know  what  your  plans  are ; 
what  your  hopes  are.  I  know  what  Enoch  Grosket  can  do ; 
and  in  what  he'll  fail.  He'll  fail  to  vindicate  Jacob  Rhone- 
land.  He'll  fail  to  vindicate  himself.  He'll  fail  to  over 
throw  Michael  Rust.  He  and  Jacob  will  soon  be  cheek  by 
jowl  with  those  whose  good  deeds  have  placed  fetters  on 
them.  It 's  well,  Jacob,  it 's  well.  We  '11  see  who  '11  win 
the  race.  Pause,  good  Jacob ;  pause  before  you  decide.  I 
give  you  five  minutes.  With  Michael  Rust  for  a  son-in-law, 
you  are  safe.' 

Rhoneland  grew  exceedingly  pale ;  and  then  summoning 
his  resolution,  said : 

'  I  have  decided.  Though  it  cost  me  my  life,  you  shall 
not  marry  Kate.  Go!  —  Yet  stop,  Michael  Rust.  Before 
you  go,  know  this  :  That  1  '11  meet  you,  and  defy  you.  You 
think  that  you  can  pervert  an  honest  act  of  mine,  so  as  to 
give  it  an  appearance  of  crime.  Do  it  if  you  can.  I  '11  not 


172  HARRY    II ARSON. 


appeal  to  your  sense  of  justice,  for  you  have  none  ;  but  if 
you  fail,  in  turn  I  will  hunt  you  down,  until  the  law  shall 
have  its  due.  Now  go.' 

'  Jacob  Rhoneland,  one  word.' 

'  Not  a  syllable ! '  said  the  old  man,  grasping  his  heavy 
cane,  and  his  face  becoming  purple  with  anger :  *  viper !  be 
gone  !  If  you  darken  my  doors  one  moment  longer,  I  '11 
fling  you  into  the  street ! ' 

'  Good-bye,  Jacob,'  said  Rust ;  but  not  another  word  did 
he  utter,  as  he  left  the  house.  His  face  was  ashy  pale  ;  his 
features  pinched  and  sharp ;  and  he  gnawed  his  lip  until  the 
blood  came  from  it.  Regardless  of  his  appearance ;  with 
his  long  locks  hanging  in  tangled  flakes  about  his  face,  he 
hurried  on.  Dead  and  corpse-like  as  his  features  were,  never 
was  a  fiercer  spirit  at  work,  to  give  life  and  energy  to  human 
frame ;  never  was  there  a  stronger  concentration  of  dark 
passions  in  a  human  heart.  His  pace  was  quick  and  firm ; 
there  was  no  loitering ;  no  pausing  to  think ;  no  sign 
of  irresolution.  Darting  along  the  street  where  the  old 
man  lived,  and  striking  into  one  of  the  wider  cross-streets  of 
the  city,  he  followed  it  until  it  brought  him  into  Broadway. 
This  he  crossed,  and  plunged  into  that  labyrinth  of  narrow 
streets  which  run  between  that  and  the  Bowery.  Thread 
ing  them  with  the  ready  step  of  one  familiar  with  their 
turns  and  windings,  he  neither  paused  to  inquire  his  direc 
tion,  nor  to  read  the  sign-boards ;  but  even  in  the  darkest 
and  dreariest  parts,  his  knowledge  seemed  certain  and 
accurate.  The  twilight  had  darkened  into  night ;  and  as  he 
proceeded  through  the  more  fated  parts  of  the  city,  dim 
figures,  which  like  bats  were  shrouded  in  holes  and  dark 
hiding-places  in  the  day-time,  were  beginning  to  flit  about ; 
yet  he  felt  no  hesitation  nor  fear.  In  the  most  gloomy  and 
blighted  of  all  these  places  he  paused,  cast  a  quick,  suspi 
cious  glance  about  him,  to  see  that  none  watched  him,  arid 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  173 

then  darted  up  an  alley  between  two  houses,  so  ruined  that 
their  sagging  gables  met  over  it  like  a  Gothic  arch.  Grop 
ing  his  way  along,  he  came  to  a  door  at  the  foot  of  a  flight 
of  stairs  which  terminated  the  passage.  He  did  not  pause 
to  knock ;  but  pulling  a  string,  opened  it,  and  ascended  a 
pitch-dark  staircase,  which  in  like  manner  was  terminated  at 
the  upper  end  by  a  door.  At  this  he  knocked  loudly. 
He  was  answered  by  a  gruff  voice  which  inquired : 

'Is  that  you,  Joe?' 

'  No,'  replied  Rust. 

'  Well,  if  you  a'  n't  Joe,  who  are  you?  If  you  a' n't  got 
a  name,  peg  away ;  for  blow  me  if  I  open  till  I  hear  it.' 

There  was  a  noise,  as  if  the  speaker,  in  conclusion  of  his 
observation,  drew  a  chair  or  bench  along  the  floor,  and 
seated  himself. 

'  Come,  Bill,'  said  another  voice,  *  this  won't  do.  You  M 
better  open  it.' 

A  muttering  from  Bill  showed  that  he  thought  otherwise  ; 
but  the  person  who  had  spoken,  apparently  not  heeding  his 
disapprobation,  got  up  and  opened  the  door,  giving  to  Rust 
as  he  did  so  a  full  view  of  the  interior  of  the  room. 

At  a  table  sat  a  man  with  coarse  red  hair,  and  a  beard  of 
several  days'  growth.  He  was  a  brawny  fellow,  six  feet 
high,  with  a  cast  in  one  eye,  which  seemed  to  have  been 
injured  by  a  deep  gash,  the  scar  of  which  still  remaineu, 
commencing  on  the  very  eyelid,  crossing  one  cheek  and 
his  nose,  and  giving  an  air  of  sternness  to  features  which 
needed  not  this  addition  to  express  much  that  was  bad. 
His  companion,  who  had  opened  the  door,  was  a  man  of 
smaller  build,  with  broad,  square  shoulders,  dark,  sharp 
eyes,  narrow  forehead  and  overhanging  brows,  and  a  thin, 
tremulous  lip ;  and  though  possessed  of  less  physical  strength 


174  HARRY    II ARSON. 

than  his  comrade,  looked  much  the  more  dangerous  of  the 
two. 

They  both  eyed  Rust  without  speaking,  and  then  the 
larger  of  the  two  said  to  his  comrade  :  '  Tim  Craig,  hand  the 
gentleman  a  chair.' 

*  I  do  n't  want  one,'  said  Rust  abruptly.     *  Have  you  seen 
Enoch  ? ' 

They  both  shook  their  heads. 

*  lie  '11  blow  on  me,  and  you,  and  others.' 

The  two  men  looked  at  him,  and  then  at  each  other,  but 
said  nothing. 

1  He  's  set  himself  up  against  me  —  me  ! '  said  Rust,  his 
thin  lip  curling  and  yet  trembling  as  he  spoke. 

'  He  's  a  dark  man,  that  Enoch,'  said  Craig,  in  a  low  tone. 

*  There  's  no  good  in  crossing  him,  Mr.  Rust.' 

*  Crossing  him  !    crossing  him ! '    exclaimed    Rust.     *  He 
has  crossed  me.     Who  ever  did  that,  and  prospered  ?     Ho  ! 
ho !  Enoch,  Enoch !  you  mistook  your  man  ! ' 

The  two  looked  anxiously  at  each  other,  but  did  not  speak  ; 
and  although  they  had  the  thews  and  sinews  which  could 
have  torn  the  thin  form  before  them  to  shreds,  it  seemed  as 
if  tbey  both  shrank  from  him  with  something  like  fear. 

1  It  has  come  to  the  death-struggle  between  us,'  said  Rust ; 

*  one  or  the  other  must  fall.' 

*  If  you  're  the  one  ? '  inquired  Craig. 

*  Others  must  go  too,'  replied  Rust ;  *  they  must.'' 
Craig  gnawed  his  lip. 

'If  Enoch  goes,  he  goes  alone,'  continued  Rust.  'He 
must  be  out  of  my  way ;  he  knows  too  much.' 

The  men  exchanged  looks ;  but  the  larger  of  the  two 
seemed  to  leave  all  the  speaking  to  the  other,  merely  listen 
ing  with  great  attention,  and  occasionally  favoring  his  com- 


HARRY    H ARSON.  1*75 

rade  with  a  glance,  to  see  what  effect  Rust's  words  produced 
on  him. 

'  I  have  no  time  to  stay  now,'  said  Rust,  turning  to  Craig : 
4 1  Ve  told  you  enough.  Grosket  is  in  my  way.  I  must  be 
rid  of  him.' 

Craig  put  his  finger  to  his  throat,  and  deliberately  drew 
it  across  it.  '  You  're  a  ticklish  man  to  deal  with,  Mr.  Rust : 
is  that  what  you  mean  ? '  said  he. 

'  I  say  I  must  be  rid  of  him,'  replied  Rust  fiercely.  'Are 
you  deaf  ?  Are  your  brains  addled  ?  Rid  of  him  —  rid  of 
him  —  RID  of  him ! '  exclaimed  he,  advancing,  and  hissing 
the  words  in  the  man's  ear,  while  there  was  something  in 
his  look  and  manner  that  caused  even  the  bold  villain  he 
addressed  to  draw  back  and  assume  a  somewhat  defensive 
attitude.  'Do  you  understand  me  now?  Law  won't  do 
what  I  want.  I  prescribe  no  mode ;  but  Enoch  Grosket 
must  be  out  of  my  path.' 

'  You  're  growing  red-hot,  my  master,'  said  the  man, 
bluntly.  '  But  I  must  have  what  you  want  spoken  out. 
Shall  he  be  knocked  on  the  head  ? ' 

'  Has  n't  he  committed  a  murder,  burnt  a  house,  stolen, 
embezzled  ?  I  think  I  Ve  heard  of  his  having  done  some 
thing  of  the  kind,'  said  Rust,  earnestly. 

'  Of  course  he  has.  He  's  done  'em  all,  if  you  like.  Bill 
knows  something  about  them.  Do  n't  you,  Bill  ? ' 

'  Oh !  yes,'  said  Bill,  refreshing  himself  from  a  large 
pitcher  of  water.  '  This  'ere  vorter  is  very  weak.  Blowed 
if  I  a'  n't  forgot  what  liquor  smells  like ;  and  it 's  so  long 
since  I  seed  a  dollar,  that  bless  me  if  I  think  I  'd  know 
one.  I  'd  have  to  go  to  some  obligin'  friend  to  ax  what  it 
was.' 

This  declaration  of  ignorance  was  accompanied  by  a  look 
of  consummate  disgust  into  the  pitcher,  and  another  of  a 
very  peculiar  character  at  Rust. 


176  HARRY    H ARSON. 

That  worthy,  however,  seemed  not  unused  to  meeting 
with  gentlemen  in  similar  trying  circumstances  ;  for  he  gave 
both  the  look  and  language  an  interpretation  which,  con 
sidering  the  enigmatical  mode  in  which  they  were  expressed, 
fully  met  the  views  of  the  man  who  uttered  them ;  and 
thrusting  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  he  drew  out  a  handful  of 
silver,  which  he  flung  into  the  pitcher,  and  said  : 

'Perhaps  that  will  improve  the  water.' 

Bill  made  no  other  response  than  a  broad  grin  ;  and  then 
said,  in  a  more  business-like  tone  : 

'  Well,  about  that  murder,  and  house-burnin',  and  all  that. 
"What  do  you  want  ? ' 

'  I  want  proof  of  it  against  Grosket,  if  he  did  it.' 

'  In  course  he  did  it,'  replied  the  man,  with  a  knowing 
look. 

'  Well,  bring  me  the  proof  of  it,  and  bring  it  soon.  You 
know  where  to  find  me.' 

The  smaller  of  the  two  men  took  Rust  by  the  arm  and 
led  him  to  a  remote  part  of  the  room,  and  then  said,  in  a 
low  tone  :  '  Suppose  I  can  fetch  some  one  here  as  would 
swear  that  Enoch  had  stole  two  children ;  would  that  do  ? 
It  could  be  done.' 

Rust  stooped  down  hastily,  as  if  to  examine  something 
on  the  floor ;  and  when  he  rose  up,  his  face  was  paler  than 
before. 

'Ay ;  find  it  all  out,'  said  he,  hurriedly.  'All  —  all :  who 
are  the  children ;  who  aided  him  :  all  —  all.' 

'  I  '11  do  it,'  said  the  man. 

'  But  remember  this,'  said  Rust,  in  a  low,  savage  tone : 
'  if  you  breathe  a  word  of  this  matter  to  mortal  man,  or  about 
what  you  learn,  it  will  lead  to  blood.  Do  you  hear  me  ? ' 

'  Yes,  master ;  and  I  believe  you,  too,'  replied  the  man, 
sullenly. 


HARRY    H ARSON.  177 

Rust  turned  on  his  heel,  and  even  before  they  were  aware 
that  he  h  ad  left  the  room,  was  in  the  street. 

He  flung  his  hand  up  toward  the  black  sky,  as  he  emerged, 
and  exclaimed  to  himself: 

*  Traitors !  traitors  !     God  of  heaven,  how  I  'm  beset ! ' 

His  course  was  now  to  his  old  den.  When  he  reached  it. 
he  found  even  that  paragon  of  clerks,  Mr.  Kornicker,  absent. 
This  was  a  relief;  for  he  was  too  much  excited  to  care  to 
have  any  witness  of  his  appearance. 

1  It  struck  seven  as  I  passed  the  town- clock,'  said  he.  '  It 
wants  an  hour  to  the  time  fixed.  I  '11  wait.' 

Although  it  was  dark,  he  flung  himself  on  a  chair,  with 
out  striking  a  light,  and  sat  for  some  time  in  silence,  tapping 
the  floor  with  his  foot.  But  he  could  not  rest  in  his 
present  mood ;  and  he  soon  started  up  and  paced  the  room, 
muttering  to  himself.  At  last  the  clock  struck  eight.  The 
lights  which,  shining  from  the  windows  in  different  parts 
of  the  building,  had  partially  relieved  the  gloom  of  his  room, 
were  extinguished  one  by  one,  and  it  became  pitchy  dark. 
Rust  lighted  a  candle ;  placed  it  on  the  mantel-piece,  and 
stood  looking  at  it  for  some  moments.  He  heard  a  step  on 
the  stairs;  but  it  ascended  to  the  floor  beyond,  then  de 
scended,  and  went  out  into  the  street.  He  looked  at  his 
watch ;  it  was  but  five  minutes  past  eight.  *  God !  how 
slow  the  time  went ! '  Perhaps  his  watch  had  stopped.  He 
put  it  to  his  ear :  tick,  tick,  tick !  There  seemed  an 
interval  of  a  minute  between  every  stroke.  'Five  minutes 
past  eight ;  ten  minutes  more,  and  she  will  be  here,'  muttered 
he ;  '  and  then  I  shall  know  the  worst.' 

He  put  the  watch  in  his  pocket ;  and  looking  at  the  ceil 
ing,  attempted  to  whistle;  but  could  not.  His  blood 
was  in  a  fever.  Hark !  —  was  that  a  footstep  on  the  stairs  ? 
No,  it  was  only  the  tread  of  a  person  overhead.  Hist! 
8* 


178  HARRY    HARSON. 

what's  that?'  He  stood  stock-still,  and  listened.  There 
was  a  slight  shuffling  noise  in  the  passage,  and  then  a  faint 
tap  at  the  door. 

Rust  sprang  forward,  and  opened  it.  A  female,  muffled 
in  an  old  cloak,  stood  cowering  on  the  outside. 

'Ha!  it's  you  at  last!'  exclaimed  he,  in  that  abrupt, 
energetic  manner,  which  suited  his  character  better  than  his 
more  usual  tones.  '  What  news  ? ' 

The  woman,  either  to  gain  time,  or  because  she  was 
really  exhausted,  staggered  to  a  chair,  and  turning  her  face 
to  the  light,  revealed  the  features  of  Mrs.  Blossom. 

'Ah 's  me  !  ah  's  me ! '  said  she,  leaning  back,  and  sighing 
heavily.  '  It 's  a  wearisome  way  I  've  come,  old  and  feeble 
as  I  am  —  old  and  feeble,  old  and  feeble  —  a  very  weari 
some  way.' 

There  must  have  been  something  in  the  look  of  Rust,  who 
stood  before  her  with  his  black,  glowing  eye  fixed  on  hers, 
that  was  peculiarly  startling ;  for  she  paused  in  her  whining, 
and  turning  to  him,  said : 

'  What  do  you  look  at  me  so  for  ? ' 

'  Is  there  no  reason  for  it  ? '  said  Rust  in  a  low  voice.  '  Is 
there  no  trust  betrayed  ?  Have  you  done  all  that  you  swore 
to  do  ?  Have  you  not  betrayed  me,  I  say  ? ' 

Mrs.  Blossom,  hardened  as  she  naturally  was,  and  as  she 
had  become  by  long  following  a  pursuit  which  requires  no 
little  assurance,  was  not  without  some  signs  of  trepidation  at 
this  question. 

'  No,  no  ;  I  have  n't.     I  swear  I  have  n't,'  said  she. 

Michael  Rust  grasped  her  wrist,  and  drawing  her  to  the 
table,  held  the  light  full  in  her  face. 

'Who  told  Tim  Craig  about  those  children  ?  Who  told 
him  what  the  man's  name  was  who  took  them  to  you  ? 
Who  told  you  MY  name  ? ' 


HARRY    H ARSON.  179 

Mrs.  Blossom  shrank  from  the  fierce,  intense  gaze  which 
was  fixed  on  her  face.  She  attempted  to  reply,  but  no 
words  followed  the  tremulous  motion  of  her  lips.  And 
Rust  went  on : 

'  I  placed  two  children  in  your  charge.  They  were  never 
to  leave  it,  except  for  one  place  —  the  grave.' 

Mrs.  Blossom's  wan  features  grew  paler,  as  she  whispered : 

*  Not  so  loud,  Mr.  Rust ;  not  so  loud.' 

'As  you  please ;  I  '11  whisper,'  said  Rust,  suiting  the  action 
to  the  wor,d ;  and  speaking  in  a  whisper,  yet  so  distinct 
and  thrilling,  that  each  word  seemed  to  come  like  a  blow. 

*  I  placed  two  children  under  your  charge ;    and  unless  I 
required  them,  and  unless  they  grew  ill  and  died,  they  were 
to  become  what  you  are.     Where  are  they  ?     I  want  them.' 

Mrs.  Blossom  looked  hopelessly  about  her,  as  if  she  medi 
tated  an  escape ;  but  seeing  no  chance  of  any,  she  cast  a 
deprecating  eye  at  Rust,  shook  her  head,  and  said  nothing. 
Rust  went  on  in  the  same  strain : 

'  They  were  with  you  two  months  since ;  going  on  glori 
ously  ;  travelling  at  a  hand- gallop  to  the  grave.  I  have 
heard  strange  stories  of  them  since.  Are  they  true  ? ' 

Still  the  woman  was  silent. 

'Answer  me ! '  said  Rust,  his  fury  gradually  getting  the 
mastery  of  him,  and  his  voice  bursting  out  loud  and  clear. 
'  Where  are  they  1 ' 

Mrs.  Blossom  clasped  her  hands  and  looked  at  him,  but 
uttered  not  a  word. 

'  Where  are  the  children  ?  Answer  me  ! '  said  he,  starting 
to  his  feet,  and  darting  up  to  her,  his  eyes  perfectly  blood 
shot  with  fury,  and  the  foam  standing  round  his  lips  ;  '  the 
children,  I  say  —  the  children  !  God  d  —  n  you !  —  do  you 
hear  me  ? ' 

Mrs.  Blossom  cowered  down  in  the  chair,  and  made  one 


180  IIARR  Y    HA  RSO  N. 

or  two  futile  efforts  to  speak ;  her  thin  blue  lips  quivered, 
but  no  sound  came  from  them ;  while  a  kind  of  idiotic 
smile  fixed  itself  on  her  features. 

*  THE  CHILDREN,  I  say ! '   exclaimed  Rust,  gnashing  his 
teeth  with  rage ;  and  seizing  the  woman  by  the  shoulders  in 
his  paroxysm  of  fury,  he  shook  her  until  she  reeled  and  fell 
to  the  floor.     '  What  have  you  done  with  them  ?     Answer 
me ;  or,  by  the  God  of  heaven,  I  '11  crush  you  beneath  iny 
feet ! ' 

Before  his  amiable  intention,  however,  could  be  carried 
into  effect,  Mrs.  Blossom  had  recovered  her  feet,  and  not  a 
little  of  her  usual  spirit ;  and  turning  upon  him,  with  eyes 
flashing  as  brightly  as  his  own,  she  said : 

*  They  're  gone,  Michael  Rust ;  gone,  gone  !    Do  you  hear 
that  ?     Gone  where,  when  you  next  see  them,  you  will  wish 
the   undertaker  had  measured   them  before.     Gone,  gone ! 
ha  !   ha !     Would  you  know  where  ?     Ask  Enoch  Grosket 
for  one,  and  he'll  tell  you;  and  the  other's  beyond  your 
reach.     You  won't   see    the    lambs    again.     So  much  for 
striking  an  unprotected  female,  Michael  Rust.     That  for  ye  ! 
that  for  ye  !  THAT  for  ye  ! '     And  she  snapped  her  fingers  in 
the  face  of  the  disappointed  schemer,  and  left  the  room, 
slamming  the  door  loudly  after  her. 

Rust  clasped  his  hands  as  she  went  out,  and  raised  his 
eves  to  heaven. 

4  Gone ! '  repeated  he,  in  a  low  tone ;  '  gone  !  —  both  gone ! 
And  I  —  I  —  what  will  become  of  me  ?  Is  it  for  this  that 
I  have  toiled  for  years;  that  I  have  stooped  to  mean 
ness  and  dissimulation ;  have  steeped  myself  in  crime, 
and  have  had  felons  and  miscreants  of  every  dye  for  my 
associates  ?  For  years  have  I  been  on  the  rack.  No  more 
quiet  hours,  or  peaceful  dreams ;  but  cursed  and  hated ;  my 
schemes  thwarted,  my  hopes  blighted ;  a  felon ;  my  dearest 


HARRY    HARSON.  181 

hopes  crumbled  to  dust;  Kate  married!  —  and  I,  / — where 
shall  I  be?  And  she  —  she,  whom  I  have  loved  above  all 
others  —  what  will  become  of  her  ?  God  of  heaven  ! '  ex 
claimed  he,  '  shall  these  things  be  ?  Shall  I  fall  ?  —  shall  they 
triumph  ?  Never  !  never  !  Be  yourself,  Michael  Rust ! '  said 
he,  in  a  choked  voice;  'be  yourself!  be  yourself!  This  has 
happened  from  trusting  others.  Rely  on  yourself,  Michael ; 
be  cool,  Michael ;  and  then  thwart  them  —  thwart  them  ! ' 

He  paused,  and  stood  in  the  middle  of  that  room  like  a 
statue.  'Slowly  and  by  degrees  every  trace  of  excitement 
disappeared  from  his  features,  until  they  had  assumed  a 
sharp,  rigid,  fixed  look;  and  then  he  said,  pursuing  the 
same  theme :  '  Thwart  them ;  thwart  them,  Michael  Rust ! 
Work,  toil,  cringe,  lie,  steal,  murder  —  ay,  do  any  thing  — 
but  thwart  them,  thwart  them  !  Good  Michael  Rust,  do  n't 
suffer  yourself  to  be  a  by-word  in  their  mouths  !  And  if 
you  fail,  Michael,  die  fighting.  There 's  something  noble  in 
that.  Be  it  so ;  be  it  so  ! '  said  he,  in  a  stern,  abrupt  tone. 
*  They  Ve  driven  me  to  extremities.  Nothing  but  desperate 
measures  can  save  me.  Desperate  measures  shall  be  tried. 
Does  success  require  a  life  ?  Well,  well ;  the  world  's  over 
loaded  ;  it  shall  have  one.  If  I  attain  it,  it  will  be  another's  ; 
if  I  fail,  it  will  be  my  own.  The  grave  is  a  quiet  resting- 
place  ;  a  better  one  than  the  world,  when  a  man  's  foiled  in 
all  his  aims.  But  I  'm  weary,  I  'm  weary ! '  said  he,  in  a 
low,  desponding  tone ;  '  my  head 's  dizzy,  and  my  brain  con 
fused,  by  the  troubles  which  have  come  so  thickly  upon  me 
to-day.  I  must  rest.' 

Drawing  a  chair  to  the  table,  he  seated  himself  upon  it; 
bent  his  head  down  upon  the  table,  and,  exhausted  by  the 
excitement  of  the  last  few  days,  which  had  taxed  even  his 
n  frame  beyond  its  powers  of  endurance,  he  soon  slept 
heavily. 


182  HARRY    H ARSON. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

LEAVING  Michael  Rust  buried  in  death-like  slumber,  we 
must  turn  to  one  destined  to  take  an  active  part  in  the  suc 
ceeding  events  of  this  history ;  and  who,  on  that  same  even 
ing,  was  employed  in  a  manner  directly  the  reverse  of  that  of 
Rust.  That  man  was  Harry  Harson. 

Seated  at  a  table  in  his  own  room,  with  every  feature 
puckered  up  into  a  very  hard  knot,  the  combined  result  of 
thought,  perplexity,  and  anger,  he  was  poring  over  a  number 
of  papers,  occasionally  pausing  to  scratch  his  head,  or  break 
ing  out  into  an  exclamation  of  displeasure,  not  unfrequently 
accompanied  by  a  hard  thump  on  the  table,  as  something 
met  his  eye  which  excited  his  indignation  in  a  peculiar 
degree. 

It  was  past  midnight ;  three  good  hours  beyond  the  time 
at  which  he  usually  retired  to  rest.  All  indications  of  bustle 
and  stir  in  the  streets  had  long  since  ceased,  and  not  a  sound 
was  heard,  except  the  occasional  tread  of  a  belated  straggler, 
hurrying  to  his  home ;  the  sharp  ticking  of  the  clock,  and 
the  plethoric  snoring  of  Spite,  who  made  it  a  rule  never  to 
go  to  bed  before  his  master ;  and  who,  being  a  methodical 
dog  in  habit,  and  an  obstinate  one  in  disposition,  could  not 
be  induced  to  depart  from  old  usages.  As  each  successive 
hour  was  heralded  by  the  voice  of  the  clock  just  mentioned, 
Spite  rose,  looked  at  the  timepiece,  then  at  his  master,  as  if 
to  say,  *  Hallo !  old  fellow,  do  you  hear  that  ? '  gaped ;  saun 
tered  round  the  table,  and  resumed  his  former  position,  each 
time  lessening  the  distance  between  himself  and  the  fire,  as 
its  embers  gradually  crumbled  to  ashes.  Still,  Harson  con- 


HA  R  RY    HAR  SO  N.  183 

tinued  his  occupation ;  tossing  over,  examining,  and  studying 
the  papers  and  letters,  in  utter  disregard  of  hints  and  admo 
nitions.  Apparently,  he  became  more  troubled  as  he  advanced 
in  his  investigation.  His  brow  contracted ;  the  color  deep 
ened  in  his  cheek ;  his  eye  kindled ;  and  more  than  once  he 
threw  the  papers  impatiently  on  the  table,  and,  rising  up, 
paced  the  room  with  rapid  strides.  This  occurred  at  inter 
vals  during  the  whole  evening,  until  finally  he  came  to  a 
letter  which  caused  his  anger  to  boil  over.  Starting  to  his 
feet  and  clasping  his  hands,  he  exclaimed :  '  Good  God ! 
shall  such  things  be  ?  and  wilt  Thou  not  protect  the  innocent 
and  punish  the  guilty  ? ' 

'  But  why  ask  ? '  added  he,  suddenly  :  *  I  know  that  even 
now,  through  channels  that  were  least  dreamed  of,  justice  is 
working  its  way  to  the  light.  Confirm  me,  great  God ! ' 
added  he,  fervently,  '  in  my  purpose  of  seeing  right  done ; 
and  grant  that  I  may  never  swerve  from  my  course  until 
that  purpose  is  accomplished  ! ' 

Had  the  culprit  against  whom  he  uttered  this  invocation 
and  prayer  heard  the  muttered  threat  which  succeeded  it, 
and  witnessed  the  kindling  face  and  stern,  determined  eye 
of  the  person  who  had  uttered  them,  his  heart,  had  he  been 
a  man  of  ordinary  mould,  might  have  sunk ;  but  as  the  cul 
prit  in  this  case  was  no  other  than  Michael  Rust,  who  had 
no  belief  in  an  hereafter ;  who  entertained  suspicion  against 
all  men,  and  who  never  yielded  his  point  under  any  circum 
stances,  it  is  possible  that  it  would  have  produced  no  other 
result  than  increased  watchfulness,  increased  determination, 
and  bitter  hatred. 

'  I  have  read  of  such  schemes  as  these,'  muttered  Harson, 
'but  I  never  expected  to  have  any  thing  to  do  with  them 
myself —  never.  Can  there  be  any  doubt  ? '  said  he,  turning 
the  letters  over  in  his  hand.  '  They  can  scarcely  be  forgeries, 
vamped  up  to  obtain  money  from  me ;  for  many  of  them 


184  HARRY    HARSOtf. 

were  written  years  ago,  and  bear  post-office  stamps  whose 
dates  correspond  with  the  dates  within. 

'  But,'  said  he,  looking  at  the  clock,  '  enough  of  this.  It 
would  almost  make  a  young  man  gray  to  wade  through  the 
details  of  such  villany.  An  old  man  like  me  must  spare  him 
self.  I  've  had  enough  for  one  dose ;  so  I  '11  sleep  on  it,  and 
take  the  rest  in  the  morning.  Ha !  Spite,'  said  he,  stooping 
down  and  patting  the  dog ;  *  better  be  a  good,  honest  dog 
like  thee,  my  old  cur,  than  a  man  with  such  a  heart  as  some 
have.  The  temper 's  a  trifle,  Spite ;  so  do  n't  be  worried 
about  yours ;  for  your  heart 's  right,  my  old  dog.  There 's 
no  double-dealing  about  you.  I  do  n't  know  whether  God 
blesses  an  honest  dog,  or  not ;  but  I  believe  he  does,  in  some 
way  or  other.  Come,  pup,  I  '11  not  keep  you  up  longer.' 

Saying  this,  he  gathered  up  the  papers,  and  placed  them  in 
a  small  box,  which  he  locked,  and  put  under  his  arm,  and, 
followed  by  Spite,  left  the  room  for  the  story  above.  He 
paused,  and  listened  at  a  door  at  the  head  of  the  stairs ;  then 
turning  the  knob  so  as  to  make  no  noise,  he  went  in.  It 
was  a  small  room,  having  a  thick  carpet  on  the  floor,  and  a 
dressing-table  covered  with  white  muslin  standing  between 
the  windows,  whose  curtains  were  as  white  as  snow.  In  one 
corner  was  a  bed.  On  a  chair,  at  the  side  of  it,  lay  a  girl's 
clothes ;  and  in  the  bed  itself  was  a  girl  of  about  five  years 
of  age,  with  her  light  hair  streaming  over  the  pillow  like  a 
web  of  gold.  There  was  little  trace  in  her  face  of  the  out 
cast  whom  he  had  taken  from  the  streets  but  a  few  weeks 
before ;  for  the  thin  cheek  had  filled  up,  and  the  flush  of 
health  had  succeeded  the  paleness  of  suffering  and  illness. 
Her  eyes  were  closed,  and  their  long  lashes  drooped  over  her 
cheek ;  but  she  did  not  sleep  soundly ;  for  she  muttered  to 
herself,  as  Harson  bent  over  her :  *  Come,  Charley ;  we  Ve 
been  looking  for  you  a  long  time.  Come ! ' 


11 A  Li  li  Y    HA  R  SON.  185 

'  She 's  dreaming  of  the  boy,'  thought  he ;  'but  be  of  good 
heart,  my  poor  child  ;  we  '11  find  him  yet.' 

He  leaned  down  until  his  gray  hair  mingled  with  her 
bright  locks,  pressed  his  lips  to  her  forehead,  and  went  qui 
etly  into  the  entry,  where  his  presence  was  greeted  with  no 
little  satisfaction  by  Spite,  who  had  been  shut  out,  and  was 
becoming  somewhat  testy  at  being  kept  in  the  dark. 

It  was  not  long  before  Harson,  with  a  thick  counterpane 
up  to  his  very  chin,  was  sleeping  as  soundly  in  his  own  bed 
as  Spite  was  under  it. 

What  dreams  hovered  around  the  old  man's  pillow,  or 
whether  he  had  any,  we  cannot  tell ;  but  certain  it  is,  that 
when  the  morning  sun  broke  through  a  small  opening 
between  the  window-curtains,  flinging  a  long,  thin  streak  o^ 
gold  across  the  carpet,  Harson  was  still  sound  asleep ;  and  it 
is  quite  uncertain  how  long  he  might  have  continued  so,  had 
not  the  same  ray  of  sunshine,  in  its  passage  across  the  room, 
fallen  directly  across  the  centre  of  the  right  eye  of  Spite, 
who  had  been  drifting  about  the  apartment  since  daybreak ; 
and  who  now  vented  his  disapprobation  of  the  liberty  taken, 
in  an  irritable  yelp. 

Harry  sat  up  in  bed.  '  What  ails  thee,  pup  ? '  said  he, 
rubbing  his  eyes. 

Spite,  however,  was  not  in  a  communicative  mood ;  but 
walked  to  the  door,  and  seating  himself,  surveyed  the  knob 
with  great  attention.  Harson  got  up ;  threw  on  a  dressing- 
gown,  and  going  to  the  door,  let  him  out,  shutting  it  after 
him. 

He  then  went  to  a  basin  as  portly  and  capacious  as  him 
self,  dashed  nearly  a  pailful  of  water  into  it ;  bared  head, 
neck,  and  shoulders,  and  plunged  them  in.  Out  he  came, 
very  red  in  the  face,  with  water  dripping  from  nose,  and 
chin,  and  eyebrows.  Then  in  again  he  went ;  and  then 


186  HARRY   HARSON. 

followed  such  a  rubbing,  and  puffing,  and  blowing,  and 
spouting,  that  he  seemed  like  a  young  whale  at  his  gambols. 
This  ceremony  being  repeated  some  half  dozen  times,  and 
the  same  number  of  towels  having  dried  him,  he  proceeded 
to  dress  himself. 

It  might  have  been  observed,  however,  that  during  the 
•whole  time,  his  thoughts  were  wandering;  for  he  walked  to 
the  window  with  some  article  of  apparel  in  his  hand,  and 
stood  looking  into  the  street,  in  a  state  of  deep  abstraction ; 
and  then,  drawing  a  long  breath,  resumed  his  dressing  with 
great  earnestness,  as  if  it  had  struck  him  that  he  was  neglect 
ing  it.  Then  again  he  seated  himself  on  the  side  of  his  bed, 
and  sat  for  some  minutes,  looking  on  the  floor. 

' It 's  terrible,  terrible ! '  said  he;  ' but  it 's  not  too  late  to 
remedy  it.  Thank  God  for  that!' 

Putting  on  one  thing  after  another,  sometimes  upside 
down,  sometimes  getting  his  feet  in  his  sleeves ;  then  thrust 
ing  an  arm  in  the  wrong  side  of  his  coat ;  tying  and  untying 
his  huge  cravat  half  a  dozen  times,  and  enveloping  the 
half  of  his  face  in  its  ample  folds  ;  doing  every  thing  wrong, 
and  rectifying  his  mistakes  with  the  greatest  gravity,  and 
without  the  slightest  appearance  of  impatience,  Harson  finally 
found  himself  fully  established  in  coat  and  jacket,  with  no 
other  mistake  than  the  trifling  one  of  having  buttoned  the 
lower  button  of  the  last  article  into  the  top  button-hole. 
Having  duly  surveyed  himself  in  the  glass,  to  see  that  all 
was  right,  without  having  detected  his  mistake,  he  went  out. 

He  stopped  at  the  door  of  the  child's  room.  His  foot 
steps  had  apparently  been  recognized,  for  it  was  ajar,  and  a 
pair  of  bright  eyes  were  peeping  out  to  welcome  him. 

'Annie,  is  that  you  ?  Ha !  child,  you  're  a  sad  sleepy-head. 
You  '11  lose  your  breakfast.  This  won't  do  —  this  won't  do. 
Spite  was  up  long  ago.'  He  shook  his  finger  at  the  child, 


HARRY    H ARSON.  187 

who  laughed  in  his  face ;  and  then,  flinging  the  door  open, 
showed  herself  fully  dressed. 

'  Wrong,  Harry ;  wrong,  wrong  again,'  said  she,  springing 
out,  and  addressing  him  in  the  familiar  manner  that  he 
always  liked  :  '  I  am  dressed.' 

The  old  man  took  her  in  his  arms,  kissed  her  cheek,  and 
carried  her  down  stairs ;  and  did  not  put  her  down  till  they 
were  in  the  room  below. 

'  Come,  Harry,  there 's  breakfast ;  and  there  's  your  seat ; 
and  here  's  mine,'  exclaimed  she,  leading  him  to  the  table. 
4  Martha  has  got  here  before  us,'  said  she,  shaking  her  head 
at  a  demure-looking  woman  of  fifty,  in  a  faded  cap,  with  a 
rusty  ribbon  round  it,  who  was  already  seated  at  the  table, 
preparing  the  coffee.  '  Here,  Spite  —  come  here.' 

Spite  was  not  a  dog  given  to  the  company  of  children. 
He  was -by  far  too  old,  and  sedate,  and  dignified  for  that; 
but  there  were  occasions  on  which  he  could  unbend,  and 
these  fits  of  relaxation  generally  came  over  him  just  at  meal 
times,  when  he  permitted  the  child  not  only  to  pat  him,  but 
even  to  uncurl  his  tail.  Doubtless  the  sight  of  the  creature- 
comforts  which  garnished  Harry's  table  had  its  effect  in  pro 
ducing  this  change,  although  it  is  possible  the  knowledge 
that  the  child  devoted  full  half  of  h.er  time  to  supplying  his 
wants  (a  thing  which  his  master  sometimes  neglected)  may 
have  had  its  weight.  Obedient,  at  any  rate,  to  the  summons, 
Spite  hopped  from  a  chair  on  which  he  had  been  seated,  and 
placed  himself  at  her  side,  watching  every  mouthful  she 
swallowed,  and  licking  his  lips  with  great  unction. 

Harson's  breakfast-table  was,  as  the  neighbors  said,  (par 
ticularly  the  poor  ones  who  now  and  then  chanced  to  drop 
in  at  it,)  enough  to  awaken  an  appetite  in  a  dead  man ;  and 
if  dead  people  are  peculiarly  alive  to  hot  coffee,  and  mutton- 
chops,  and  hashed  meats,  and  warm  cakes,  and  fresh  rolls 


188  HARRY    HARSON. 

like  snow  itself,  and  all  these  things  set  off  by  crockery 
which  shone  and  glittered  till  you  could  see  your  face  in  it, 
and  table-linen  without  a  speck  or  wrinkle  in  it,  there  is  little 
doubt  but  that  a  vast  number  of  departed  individuals  must 
have  found  their  mouths  watering  at  exactly  half-past  seven 
each  morning ;  that  being  the  precise  hour  at  which  these 
articles  made  their  daily  appearance  on  Harson's  table.  But 
certain  it  is  that,  whatever  may  have  been  its  effect  upon 
them,  it  had  little  upon  Harson  ;  for  he  scarcely  touched  any 
thing,  nor  did  he  bestow  his  usual  attention  on  those  about 
him,  but  sat  sometimes  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  cloth, 
sometimes  staring  full  in  the  face  of  the  old  housekeeper, 
who  looked  at  the  ceiling,  and  on  the  floor,  and  in  her  cup, 
and  coughed,  and  hemmed,  and  fidgeted,  and  grew  so  red, 
and  confused,  and  embarrassed,  that  before  Harson  was  even 
aware  that  he  was  looking  at  her,  to  use  her  own  expression, 
'  she  thought  she  should  have  dropped.'  But  this  was  only 
of  a  piece  with  all  the  rest  of  his  actions  during  the  morn 
ing  ;  for  to  all  remarks  or  questions,  his  only  answer  was  an 
emphatic  '  humph  ! '  and  it  was  not  until  he  observed  that 
the  others  had  finished  their  meal,  that  he  hastily  drank  off 
his  coffee  at  a  draught,  and  rose  from  the  table. 

'  You  need  not  remove  the  things  now,  Martha,'  said  he, 
as  the  rattling  of  the  crockery  announced  that  this  process 
was  commencing.  'The  noise  disturbs  me.  I  wish  to  be 
alone  for  a  short  time ;  and  after  that  you  can  do  as  you 
please.' 

The  housekeeper  made  no  reply;  but  went  out,  taking 
the  girl  with  her,  and  leaving  Harry  to  his  meditations. 

That  these  were  neither  pleasant  nor  composing,  was  quite 
evident;  for  after  walking  up  and  down  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  and  muttering  to  himself,  he  finally  stopped 
short,  and  apparently  addressing  Spite  —  for  his  eyes  were 


HARRY   HARSON.  189 

fixed  upon  him,  and  Spite  returned  the  look,  as  if  he  sup 
posed  that  he  was  being  consulted  —  he  broke  out  with  : 

*  What  am  I  to  do  ?  This  matter  on  my  hands ;  and 
Ned,  poor  Ned,  kicked  adrift  by  the  old  man,  and  Kate 
breaking  her  little  heart  about  him ;  and  her  father  quietly 
led  by  the  nose  to  the  Devil.  There 's  no  doubt  about  it ; 
that  fellow  Rust 's  at  the  bottom  of  it  all ;  and  no  one 
except  me  to  unravel  this  knot.  God  bless  me  !  It  bewilders 
my  brain,  and  my  old  head  spins.  But,  Annie,  Annie,  my 
poor  little  child !  if  I  forsake  thee,  may  I  never  prosper ! 
How  now,  Spite  ? ' 

This  exclamation  was  caused  by  a  somewhat  singular  pro 
ceeding  on  the  part  of  Spite,  who,  after  looking  at  him  as  if 
deeply  interested  in  the  tenor  of  his  remarks,  suddenly 
uttered  a  sharp  bark,  and  bolted  from  his  chair  as  if  shot 
from  a  gun.  The  cause  of  this  movement  was  soon  shown 
in  the  person  of  a  man  dressed  in  a  very  shabby  suit  of 
black,  with  a  beard  of  several  days'  growth,  who  stood  just 
inside  the  door,  and  who,  after  a  familiar  nod  to  Harson, 
asked : 

'Are  all  the  family  deaf  except  the  dog  ? ' 

'  When  a  man  enters  a  stranger's  house,  it  is  but  proper 
to  knock,'  said  Harson,  sharply. 

'Did  you  want  your  house  battered  about  your  ears?' 
inquired  the  stranger ;  '  for  I  did  knock,  until  I  was  afraid  it 
might  come  to  that.  Perhaps  you  're  deaf,  old  gentleman ; 

if  so,  I  'm  sorry  for  you  ;  but  as  for  your  d d  dog,  I  wish 

he  was  dumb.  I  can  scarcely  hear  myself  speak  for  him.' 

This  explanation  cleared  from  Harson's  face  every  trace 
of  anger ;  and  silencing  the  dog,  he  said :  *  I  did  not  hear 
you ;  and  yet  I  am  not  deaf.' 

'  Well,  I  made  noise  enough,'  said  the  other.  '  Is  your 
name  Henry  Harson  ? ' 


190  HARRY    H ARSON. 

Harson  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

The  stranger  took  off  his  hat  and  placed  it  on  a  chair ; 
after  which,  he  thrust  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  pulled  out 
a  letter.  '  That 's  not  it,'  said  he,  throwing  it  in  his  hat ; 
*  nor  that]  continued  he,  drawing  out  a  handkerchief,  which 
he  rolled  in  a  veiy  tight  ball,  and  transferred  to  another 
pocket. 

'  I  Ve  got  a  letter  some  where,  that  I  know.  It  must 
belong  to  the  mole  family,  for  I  put  it  uppermost,  and  it 's 

burrowed  to  the  very  bottom ;  d d  if  it  has  n't !  Ah, 

here  it  is,'  said  he,  after  a  violent  struggle,  bringing  up  both 
a  letter  and  a  snuff-box.  The  former  he  handed  to  Harson, 
and  the  latter  he  opened,  and  after  applying  each  nostril 
sideways  to  its  contents,  took  a  pinch  between  his  fingers, 
returned  the  box  to  his  pocket,  and,  seating  himself,  snuffed 
deliberately,  all  the  while  eyeing  the  breakfast-table  with  a 
fixed,  steady,  immovable  stare. 

The  thread-bare,  poverty-stricken  look  and  hungry  eye  of 
his  visitor  was  not  lost  on  Harson,  who,  before  opening  the 
letter,  glanced  at  the  table  and  at  the  stranger,  and  then 
said :  *  It 's  early ;  perhaps  you  have  not  yet  breakfasted, 
Mff.  —  Mr.  — Mr ' 

'  Kornicker,'  said  the  stranger. 

'  Kornicker,  Mr.  Kornicker.  If  so,  make  yourself  at  home, 
and  help  yourself  while  I  look  over  this  letter ;  no  ceremony. 
I  use  none  with  you.  Use  none  with  me.' 

It  was  a  tempting  sight  to  poor  Kornicker ;  for  there  stood 
the  coffee-pot,  steaming  away  at  the  spout ;  and  the  dishes, 
far  from  empty,  and  such  rolls  as  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of 
meeting  every  day ;  but  mingled  with  all  his  defects  of  cha 
racter  was  a  strong  feeling  of  pride  which  made  him  hesi 
tate  ;  and  it  is  probable  that  pride  would  have  carried  the 


HARRY    HARSON.  191 

day,  had  not  Harson,  divining  something  of  his  feeling, 
added : 

'  Perhaps  it 's  scarcely  civil  to  ask  you  to  the  table,  when 
I  have  left  it  myself;  but  I  should  not  stand  on  a  trifle  like 
that  with  you ;  and  I  hope  you  '11  not  do  so  with  me.  Those 
rolls  are  excellent ;  try  them.' 

He  said  no  more ;  but  going  to  the  window,  broke  the 
seal  of  the  letter  and  commenced  reading. 

Left  to  himself,  Kornicker  struggled  manfully ;  but  hunger 
got  the  better  of  all  other  feelings ;  and  at  last,  drawing  his 
chair  to  the  table,  he  commenced  a  formidable  attack  upon 
its  contents. 

'  So  you  're  with  Michael  Rust,'  said  Harson,  after  he  had 
finished  reading  the  note,  going  to  the  table,  and  standing 
opposite  Kornicker. 

Kornicker's  teeth  were  just  then  engaged  in  a  severe 
struggle  with  a  roll,  and  he  could  do  nothing  but  nod  an 
affirmative. 

1  Who  is  he  ? '  inquired  Harson  ;  *  what 's  his  profession  ? ' 

Kornicker  swallowed  his  roll,  and  kept  it  down  by  half  a 
cup  of  coffee ;  and  then  said : 

'As  to  who  he  is,  all  I  know  is,  he 's  sometimes  an  old 
man,-  sometimes  he  is  n't ;  sometimes  he  wears  a  broad- 
brimmed  hat  and  a  red  handkerchief  on  his  head,  and  some 
times  he  do  n't ;  but  who  he  is,  or  what  he  does,  or  where  he 
goes  to,  or  where  he  comes  from,  or  whom  he  knows,  or 
who  knows  him,  curse  me  if  /  know.  That's  all  I  can 
tell  you,  Sir.  He 's  a  mystery,  done  up  in  the  carcass  of  a 

little,  dried-up  man,  of  a  d d  uncertain  age.  May  I 

trouble  you  for  the  milk  ? ' 

1  Humph  ! '  said  Harson,  in  a  very  dissatisfied  tone,  at  the 
same  time  passing  the  milk ;  '  and  yet  you  are  in  his 
employ  ? ' 


192  HARRY    HARSON. 

Kornicker  nodded. 

*  It  's  strange,'  muttered  he,  '  quite  strange.' 

'  D d  strange,'  said  Kornicker,  burying  his  face  in  a 

huge  coffee-cup,  'but  true,'  continued  he,  setting  it  down. 

'True!'  repeated  Harson ;  'true  that  you  are  in  his 
employ ;  are  in  the  habit  of  daily  intercourse  with  him ; 
attend  to  his  concerns ;  see  him  constantly,  and  yet  do  not 
know  who  he  is ! ' 

'Partly  correct,  partly  incorrect,'  quoth  Mr.  Kornicker, 
pushing  his  cup  away.  '  I  'm  in  his  employ  —  correct.  I 
know  nothing  of  him  —  correct  again.  As  to  the  rest  —  in 
correct.  Sometimes,  I  do  n't  see  him  for  weeks ;  sometimes 
I  have  something  to  do  —  often  nothing.  I  never  know 
when  he 's  going,  or  when  he 's  coming  back.' 

Harson  stood  quiet  for  some  time.  'This  is  all  very 
strange.  Do  n't  you  know  who  arc  his  acquaintances  or 
associates  ? ' 

Kornicker  shook  his  head. 

'  Who  comes  to  see  him  ? ' 
*  'Nobody.' 

'  Do  you  never  hear  him  speak  of  any  one  ? ' 

'Never  heard  him  name  a  soul,  till  the  other  day  he 
named  Enoch  Grosket,  and  to-day  you.' 

'  Do  you  know  nothing  of  his  mode  of  life,  or  intentions, 
or  plans,  or  whether  he 's  honest  or  dishonest,  or  how  he 
lives,  or  where  his  money  conies  from,  or  what  his  family 
is?' 

'  Nothing,'  said  Kornicker.  '  Indeed,  it  never  struck  me 
till  now,  how  much  there  was  to  know  on  the  subject,  and 
how  little  conversant  I  was  with  it.' 

'  Shall  /  tell  you  who  he  is  ? '  asked  Harson. 

Mr.  Kornicker  replied,  that  any  information  in  his  then 
unenlightened  state  would  be  acceptable. 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  193 

'Well,  then,  lie's  one  of  the  veriest  villains  that  ever 
disgraced  human  nature.  He 's ' 

*  Come !  come  !  none  of  that !  hold  up,  old  gentleman  ! 
interrupted  Kornicker,  sitting  bolt  upright,  and  grasping 
the  handle  of  a  coffee-cup  with  a  somewhat  hostile  tenacity. 
'I've  just  been  eating  your  bread,  backed  by  not  a  little 
meat,  and  no  small  quantity  of  coffee,  and  therefore  am 
under  obligations  to  you ;  and  of  course,  a  quarrel  with  you 
would  be  greatly  against  my  stomach.  But  you  must 
recollect  that  Rust  is  my  employer.  What  I  eat,  and  drink, 
and  snuff,  comes  out  of  his  pocket ;  and  although  he  was 
small  in  some  matters,  yet  he  helped  me  when  it  required  a 
good  deal  of  salt  to  save  me ;  my  fortunes  were  not  only  at 
an  ebb,  but  they'd  got  to  dead  low-tide.  I'm  bound  to 
stand  up  for  him,  and  I  '11  do  it.  I  've  no  doubt  he 's  the 
d  — —  dest  rascal  going ;  but  I  '11  not  hear  any  one  say  so. 
If  I  do,  damme.  So  no  more  of  that.  Come,  come,'  said 
he,  after  a  somewhat  hostile  survey  of  Ilarson's  person ;  *  you 
do  n't  look  like  the  man  to  make  a  fellow  regret  that  he 's 
broken  your  bread.' 

Quizzical  as  was  the  look  of  Kornicker,  and  vagabond  as 
he  seemed,  there  was  something  in  the  open,  blunt  manner 
in  which  he  defended  even  Rust,  that  found  an  answering 
note  in  the  bosom  of  Harry ;  and  he  said  : 

'  No,  no,  I  am  not.  You  're  an  honest  fellow ;  but  I  sup 
pose  there's  no  harm  whatever  in  wishing  you  a  better 
employer  ? ' 

'No,  none  at  all,'  said  Kornicker,  after  a  minute's  reflection  ; 
'I  often  wish  that  myself;  but,'  said  he,  with  a  philosophical 
shake  of  the  head,  '  some  people  are  born  with  a  silver  spoon 
in  their  mouth,  and  I  was  n't  one  of  them ;  mine  must  have 
been  iron ;  and  I  'm  rather  inclined  to  think  that  there  must 
have  been  no  bowl  to  it,  for  it  always  held  mighty  little.' 
9 


194  HARRY    II ARSON. 

There  was  a  mixture  of  comicality  and  sadness  in  the 
tone  in  which  he  spoke,  which  left  Harson  in  doubt  in  what 
strain  to  answer  him.  At  last  he  drew  a  chair  to  the  table : 
leaning  his  two  arms  upon  the  back  of  it,  and  surveying  his 
guest  attentively,  he  asked :  *  What 's  your  business,  if  I 
may  be  so  bold  ? ' 

*  Law,'  replied  Kornicker,  leaning  back.     '  I  'm  the  cham 
pion  of  the  distressed ;  see  widows  and  orphans  righted,  and 
all   that   sort   of  thing.     It 's   a  great   business  —  devilish 
great  business.' 

'And  is  Michael  Rust  a  lawyer  ? '  inquired  Harson. 

*  No,  I  attend  to  that  part  of  his  concerns.     He 's  a  mere 
child  in  matters  of  that  kind ;  but  devilishly  wide  awake  in 
others.     But  come,  old  gentleman,'  said  he,  suddenly  break 
ing  off,  '  I  'm  to  thank  you  for  a  breakfast ;  now  let 's  have 
an  answer  to  the  letter.     It 's  time  to  be  off.' 

Harson  glanced  at  the  letter,  and  then  said  : 

1  Do  you  know  the  contents  of  this  ? ' 

'Not  a  word  of  them,'  replied  Kornicker. 

'  Nor  what  it 's  about  ? ' 

'No.  Rust  is  neither  confidential  nor  communicative,' 
replied  Kornicker.  'So,  what  you've  got  to  say,  say  in 
writing.  I  do  n't  want  the  trouble  of  thinking  about  it,  or 
trying  to  recollect  it.' 

'  Humph ! '  said  Harson.  '  There 's  nothing  here  requiring 
a  great  stretch  of  either.  He  wants  me  to  meet  him  at  his 
office,  on  very  particular  business ;  a  request  somewhat 
singular,  as  I  never  laid  eyes  on  him  in  my  life.' 

'  Quite  singular,'  ejaculated  Kornicker. 

'  But  I  know  much  about  him ;  and  that  leaves  me  no 
desire  to  be  more  intimate  with  him.  What  do  you  think 
of  it  ? ' 

'  I  think  you  're  in  luck,'  replied  the  other ;  '  you  're  the 


HARRY    H ARSON.  195 

first  that  ever , was  asked  inside  the  door  since  I've  been 
there.  Several  very  nice,  pleasant  fellows  of  my  acquaint 
ance  have  dropped  in  occasionally ;  and  although  his  office 
is  nothing  to  brag  of,  d  —  n  me  if  he  did  n't  invite  them  to 
air  themselves  in  the  street,  and  not  to  come  back  !  It  was 
quite  mortifying,  especially  as  I  was  there  at  the  time.' 

1  What  did  you  do  ? '  inquired  Harson. 

'  You  Ve  never  seen  Rust,  you  say  ? '  said  Kor^)ker,  in 
reply  to  the  previous  question. 

Harson  answered  in  the  negative. 

'  Well,  Sir,  if  you  had,  you  would  n't  ask  that  question. 
I  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  held  my  jaw  —  that 's  what 
I  did ;  and  that 's  what  I  'd  advise  you  to  do  in  the  same 
trying  circumstances.  But  come,  Sir,  give  me  the  answer.' 

Harson,  after  a  moment's  thought,  said :  *  It  is  n't  worth 
while  to  write.  Tell  him  I  '11  come,  or  send  some  one.  You 
can  remember  that  ? ' 

Kornicker  replied  that  he  thought  he  could ;  and  taking 
up  his  hat,  and  shaking  hands  with  Harson,  and  favoring 
Spite,  who  was  examining  the  quality  of  the  leg  of  his 
pantaloons,  with  a  sly  kick,  he  went  out. 


IOC  HARRY    HARSON. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

'CoME,  Spite,'  said  Harson,  when  his  visitor  was  gone, 
'  we  must  be  up  and  doing.  This  is  not  a  business  that  can 
be  triiid  with.  The  longer  we  put  it  off,  the  tighter  will 
the  knot  be  drawn.  Stop  until  I  get  the  papers.'  Leaving 
the  room  for  a  moment,  he  returned  fully  equipped  for 
walking;  with  a  huge  handkerchief  wrapped  round  his 
chin,  and  his  broad-brimmed  beaver  pulled  tightly  down 
over  his  forehead.  '  Now  my  cane,  Spite,  and  we  '11  see  if 
we  can't  get  to  the  bottom  of  this  deviltry.  We're  em 
barked  in  a  good  cause,  my  old  pup,  and  must  n't  give  up. 
It 's  a  glorious  day ;  the  air 's  bracing,  and  will  make  your 
old  bones  quite  young  again.  Hey !  what  spirits  you  're  in  ! ' 
said  he,  as  Spite,  elated  at  being  associated  in  so  important 
a  matter,  after  wriggling  his  body  in  a  most  convulsive 
manner,  by  way  of  expressing  his  satisfaction,  finally  fell 
over  on  his  back,  in  an  abortive  effort  to  perform  a  hilarious 
pirouette  on  his  hind  legs.  *  Never  mind,  old  fellow,'  said 
Harson;  'pick  yourself  up;  accidents  will  happen  to  the 
best  of  us.  I  warrant  me  you'd  have  done  it  better  ten 
years  ago ;  do  n't  be  down-hearted  about  it.  We  're  going 
to  see  old  Holmes ;  and  when  you  and  I  and  old  Holmes 
are  thoroughly  at  work  in  sifting  this  matter,  why,  Rust  had 
better  look  sharp.  Hey,  Spite  ? ' 

Thus  talking  to  his  dog,  or  whistling  to  himself,  or 
exchanging  a  cheery  word  with  an  acquaintance  as  he 
passed,  the  old  man  trudged  along,  followed  at  a  very  staid 
pace  by  his  dog,  who,  since  his  late  unsuccessful  effort,  had 
fallen  into  a  very  serious  mood,  notwithstanding  all  the 


HARRY    HARSON.  197 

efforts  of  his  master  to  raise  his  spirits  and  to  banish  the 
recollection  of  it  from  his  mind. 

The  person  whom  Harson  sought  was  a  little  antiquated 
man,  who  had  buried  himself  among  his  books,  and  spent 
his  time  in  burrowing  in  out-of-the-way  corners  of  the  law. 
He  had  wormed  his  way  into  all  its  obsolete  nooks,  and 
haunted  those  regions  of  it  which  had  become  deserted,  and 
as  it  were  grass-grown  from  long  disuse.  By  degrees  he 
had  shrunk  from  a  practice  which  had  once  promised  to  be 
large ;  and  a  name  which  had  once  bid  fair  to  shine  brightly 
in  the  annals  of  the  law,  gradually  grew  faint  in  memory, 
as  its  owner  was  missed  from  those  places  where  the  constant 
rush  of  the  crowd  soon  wears  out  any  impress  made  by 
those  who  are  no  longer  seen.  But  there  were  times  when 
the  old  man  looked  out  from  his  den,  and  prowled  among 
those  who  had  crowded  in  his  place ;  and  there  were  t  mes 
(but  those  were  on  rare  occasions,  when  some  exciting  case 
would  be  on  the  carpet)  when  he  would  steal  into  the 
court- room,  with  a  bundle  of  papers  under  his  arm ;  and 
would  take  his  seat  at  the  table  among  the  counsel  engaged 
in  the  case ;  sitting  silent  throughout  the  whole ;  speaking 
to  none ;  taking  no  notes ;  watching  the  witnesses  with  his 
dim  eyes ;  studying  the  faces  of  the  jury  ;  occasionally 
referred  to  by  the  other  counsel ;  but  taking  no  part  in  any 
discussion,  until  the  evidence  was  closed,  and  the  cause  was 
to  be  summed  up ;  and  then,  to  the  surprise  of  all,  except 
the  bench  and  a  few  of  the  oldest  of  the  bar,  rising  to 
address  the  jury;  commencing  in  a  low,  feeble  tone,  and 
apparently  sinking  with  infirmity,  until  by  degrees  his  dim 
eye  became  like  fire ;  his  faint  voice  like  the  clear  ringing  of 
a  bell ;  his  eloquence  as  burning  as  if  flowing  from  the  lips 
of  manhood's  prime ;  his  sarcasm  withering ;  his  logic 
strong,  clear,  fervid,  and  direct;  no  loitering,  no  circumlo- 


198  HARRY    EARS  ON. 

cution,  no  repetition :  what  he  had  to  say  he  said  once,  and 
only  once.  Those  who  missed  it  then  waited  in  vain  for 
something  of  the  same  nature  to  explain  it ;  it  never  came. 
His  object  was  before  him,  and  he  hurried  onward  to  it, 
sweeping  every  thing  before  him  and  carrying  all  with  him. 
And  when  he  had  concluded,  as  he  gathered  his  papers  and 
left  the  court,  the  elder  members  of  the  bar  would  say 
•  to  each  other :  '  Old  Holmes  is  himself  again ; '  and  the 
younger  ones  wondered  who  he  was ;  and  as  they  learned 
his  name,  remembered  dimly  of  having  heard  it  as  that  of 
one  who  had  lived  in  by-gone  days. 

His  office  was  not  in  the  business  part  of  the  town ;  but 
in  a  quiet,  shady  street,  which  few  frequented,  filled  with 
huge  trees,  and  so  quiet  and  out  of  the  way  that  it  seemed 
like  a  church-yard.  Thither  Harson  bent  his  steps ;  and  it 
was  not  long  before  he  found  himself  in  his  office. 

It  was  'a  large,  dim  room,  with  high  shelves  filled  with 
volumes  and  papers,  reaching  to  the  low  ceiling.  Long, 
dusty  cobwebs  hung  trailing  from  the  walls :  the  very 
spiders  who  had  formed  them,  finding  that  they  caught 
nothing,  had  abandoned  them.  The  floor  was  thickly  car 
peted;  and  a  few  chairs  were  scattered  about,  with  odd 
volumes  lying  upon  them.  Upon  a  table  covered  with  a 
green  cloth  were  piles  of  loose  papers,  ends  of  old  pens,  torn 
scraps  of  paper,  and  straggling  bits  of  red  tape.  Altogether, 
it  was  a  sombre-looking  place,  so  still  and  gloomy,  and  with 
such  a  chilly,  forbidding  air,  that  it  seemed  not  unlike  one 
of  those  mysterious  chambers  which  used  to  abound  in  anti 
quated  castles  and  tumbling-down  old  houses,  with  a  ghost- 
story  hanging  to  their  skirts ;  or  which  some  ill-natured 
fairy  had  doomed  to  be  shut  up  for  a  hundred  years :  and 
the  little,  thin,  dried-up  man  who  sat  in  the  far  corner  of  it, 
with  every  faculty  buried  in  the  large  volume  on  his  knees, 


HARRY    HARSON.  199 

looked  as  though  he  might  have  dwelt  there  for  the  whole 
of  that  period.  Had  it  been  so,  it  would  have  been  the  same 
to  him ;  for  in  that  dim  room  had  he  spent  the  most  of  his 
life,  immersed  in  the  musty  volumes  about  him ;  now  and 
then  coming  to  the  surface,  to  see  that  the  world  had  not 
disappeared  while  he  was  busy ;  and  then  diving  again  to 
follow  out  some  dark  under-current,  which  was  to  lead  him, 
God  knows  whither.  What  was  the  world  to  him  ?  What 
cared  he  for  its  schemes  and  dreams  and  turmoil  ?  The  law 
was  every  thing  to  him  ;  home,  family,  and  friends.  God 
help  him !  a  poor  lone  man,  with  kindly  feelings  and  a 
warm,  open  heart,  which  might  have  made  a  fireside  happy ; 
but  now  without  a  soul  to  whom  he  might  claim  kindred. 
Many  respected  him ;  some  pitied  him,  and  a  few,  a  very 
few,  loved  him.  There  he  sat  day  after  day,  and  often  until 
the  day  ran  into  night,  delving,  and  diving,  and  pondering, 
and  thinking ;  a  living  machine,  working  like  a  slave  for  his 
clients ;  alike  for  rich  and  poor,  the  powerful  and  the  friend 
less  ;  beyond  a  bribe ;  too  honest  to  fear  or  care  for  public 
opinion ;  strenuous  in  asserting  the  rights  of  others,  and 
never  enforcing  his  own,  lest  he  might  give  pain  to  another. 
God  help  him !  I  say.  He  was  not  the  man  for  this  striv 
ing,  struggling  world ;  and  perhaps  it  was  well  for  him  that 
in  his  murky  pursuits  he  found  that  contentment  which 
many  others  wanted.  Yet  he  never  freed  his  mind  from  its 
trammels,  and  looked  abroad  upon  the  wide  world,  with  its 
myriads  of  throbbing  hearts,  but  he  found  in  it  those  whom 
he  could  love  and  could  help.  God  help  Aim,  did  I  say  ? 
Rather,  God  help  those  who  warp  and  twist  the  abilities, 
talents,  and  wealth  which  are  showered  upon  them,  to  un 
holy  purposes  ;  who  make  the  former  the  slaves  to  minister 
to  deeds  and  passions  at  which  human  nature  might  blush ; 
and  the  last  but  the  stepping-stone  to  selfish  aggrandizement, 


200  HARRY    H ARSON. 

or  the  nucleus  around  which  to  gather  greater  store.  Pity 
them,  but  not  him;  for  although  but  a  pale,  thin,  sickly 
being,  with  barely  a  hold  upon  life,  with  scarce  the  strength 
of  a  child,  growing  old,  and  withered,  and  feeble  without 
knowing  it ;  yet  was  he  all-powerful,  from  the  bright,  bold 
spirit  that  animated  him,  and  a  soul  stern  in  its  own  inte 
grity,  which  shrank  from  nothing  except  evil ;  and  blessed 
was  he,  far  above  all  earthly  blessings,  with  a  heart  ever 
warm,  ever  open,  and  in  which  God  had  infused  a  noble 
share  of  his  own  benevolence  and  love  to  man. 

It  is  no  wonder  then  that  Harry  Harson,  when  he  stood 
in  the  presence  of  one  in  heart  so  akin  to  himself,  paused 
and  gazed  upon  him  with  a  softened  eye. 

'Holmes,  Dick  Holmes,'  said  he,  after  a  moment,  'are 
you  at  leisure  ? ' 

The  old  lawyer  started,  looked  wistfully  up,  contracting 
his  dim  eyes  so  as  to  distinguish  the  features  of  the  person 
who  addressed  him,  and  then  doubling  down  the  leaf  of  the 
book  which  he  had  been  reading,  rose  and  advanced  hesitat 
ingly  until  he  recognized  him. 

'Ah,  Harson ! '  said  he,  extending  his  hand  quietly ; 
'honest  old  Harry,  as  we  used  to  call  you,'  continued  he, 
smiling;  'I'm  glad  to  see  you.  Few  except  those  who 
come  on  business  cross  my  threshold ;  so  you,  are  the  more 
welcome.  Sit  down.' 

He  pushed  a  chair  toward  him,  and  drawing  another  close 
to  it,  took  a .  seat,  and  looked  earnestly  in  his  face..  '  Time 
doesn't  tell  on  you,  Harry;  nor  on  me  much,1  said  he, 
looking  at  his  attenuated  fingers;  'still  it  does  tell.  My 
flesh  is  not  so  firm  and  hard  as  it  used  to  be;  and  I'm 
getting  thinner  I  've  thought  for  some  months  past  of 
relaxing  a  little,  and  of  stealing  off  for  a  day  to  the  country, 
and  of  rambling  in  its  woods  and  fields,  and  breathing  its 


HARRY    HARSON.  201 

pure  air.  It  would  quite  build  me  up ;  perhaps  you  '11  go 
with  me  1 ' 

'  That  I  will,  with  all  my  heart,'  said  Harson ;  '  that  I 
will ;  and  right  glad  am  I  to  hear  you  say  so ;  for  it 's 
enough  to  break  down  a  frame  of  iron  to  spend  hour  after 
hour  in  this  stagnant  room,  poring  over  these  musty  books.' 

Holmes  looked  about  the  room,  and  at  his  volumes,  and 
then  said,  in  a  somewhat  deprecating  tone  : 

4 1  've  been  very  happy  here.  It  does  not  seem  gloomy  to 
me ;  at  least,  not  very  gloomy.  But  come ;  I  '11  walk  out 
with  you  now.  It  does  me  good  sometimes  to  see  what  is 
going  on  out  of  doors ;  if  I  can  only  find  a  person  I  care 
for,  to  keep  me  company.' 

He  half  rose  as  he  spoke ;  but  Harson  placed  his  hand 
on  his  arm,  and  told  him  to  keep  his  seat. 

'You  made  a  mistake  this  time,'  said  he,  in  a  good- 
natured  tone,  and  beginning  to  fumble  in  his  pockets; 
'  business  brought  me  here  to-day ;  business,  and  a  desire  to 
follow  the  suggestions  of  a  clearer  head  than  mine.' 

As  he  spoke,  he  drew  from  his  pocket  the  package  of 
letters,  and  placed  it  before  the  lawyer. 

*  Before  you  examine  these,  I  must  tell  you  what  they  are 
about.  Perhaps  you  won't  believe  me,  but  these  letters  will 
confirm  every  word  I  say.  You  must  hear  my  story,  read 
them,  and  then  tell  me  frankly  and  fairly  what  to  do ;  not 
only  as  a  lawyer,  but  as  a  friend.  I  shall  need  your  advice 
as  both.' 

'  You  shall  have  it,'  said  Holmes ;  '  go  on.' 

The  tale  which  Harson  told  was  sufficient  to  arouse  every 
feeling  of  indignation  in  the  lawyer.  As  Harson  went  on, 
Holmes  became  excited,  until,  unable  to  control  himself,  he 
rose  from  his  chair  and  paced  the  room,  with  every  honest 
and  upright  feeling  in  arms.  He  forgot  every  thing  but  the 


202  HARRY    If  A  R  SON. 

deep  wrongs  which  were  recited.  Debility  and  age  were 
trampled  under  foot;  and  his  voice,  clear  and  loud,  rang 
through  the  room,  scorching  in  its  denunciation  of  the 
wrong-doer,  and  bitter  in  its  threats  of  retribution.  Then 
it  was  that  the  spirit  showed  its  mastery  over  the  clay,  and, 
spurning  the  feeble  form  which  clogged  it,  shone  forth, 
strong  in  its  own  might,  a  glorious  type  of  the  lofty  source 
from  which  it  sprang.  But  suddenly  he  sat  down;  and 
passing  his  hand  across  his  face,  said  in  a  feeble  tone  :  '  I  am 
easily  excited  now-a-days,  but  I  will  command  myself.  Go 
on ;  I  will  not  interrupt  you  again.' 

As  he  spoke,  he  placed  his  arms  on  the  table,  and  leaned 
his  head  upon  them ;  and  this  position  he  maintained  with 
out  asking  a  question  or  making  a  comment,  until  Harson 
had  finished  speaking ;  and  when  he  looked  up,  his  face  had 
assumed  its  usual  quiet  expression. 

'  Do  these  letters  prove  what  you  say,  beyond  a  doubt  ? ' 
he  asked. 

*  I  think  so.' 

'And  why  do  you  suppose  them  to  be  written  by  Rust  ? 
The  name,  you  say,  is  different.' 

'  I  had  it  from  a  person  who  would  swear  to  it.  By  the 
way,'  added  he,  suddenly,  '  I  have  just  received  a  letter  from 
Rust.  I  '11  compare  the  writing  with  those ;  that  will 
prove  it.' 

He  took  the  letter  from  his  pocket,  and  placed  it  beside 
the  others ;  and  his  countenance  fell.  They  were  as  unlike 
as  possible. 

Holmes  shook  his  head.  4  You  may  have  hit  upon  the 
wrong  man,  or  you  may  have  been  purposely  put  on  a  false 
scent.  There  certainly  is  no  resemblance  between  these,' 
said  he,  carefully  comparing  the  two ;  *  not  even  in  the 
general  character  of  the  hand.' 


HARRY    H ARSON.  203 

Harson  could  not  but  admit  the  fact.  It  was  too 
evident. 

'Look  over  the  whole  bundle/  said  he.  'There  are  at 
least  twenty  of  them.  If  this  is  a  disguised  hand,  it  is 
possible  that  he  may  have  betrayed  himself  in  some  of  the 
others.' 

The  lawyer  went  over  the  letters,  one  by  one,  carefully 
comparing  them  ;  but  still  the  character  was  the  same.  All 
of  them  were  in  the  free,  flowing  style  of  a  good  penman ; 
while  the  letter  which  Harson  had  produced  was  written  in 
a  bold,  but  stiff  and  ungraceful  hand. 

'  Where  did  you  get  this  ? '  said  Holmes,  pointing  to  the 
one  which  Harson  had  received  from  Kornicker. 

*  It  was  brought  to  me  by  a  clerk  of  his  this  morning/ 
'  Then  you  know  him.  ? '  said  Holmes. 

*  I  never  saw  him  in  my  life.' 

'Have  you  ever  had  any  business  with  him  through 
others  ? ' 

Harson  shook  his  head.     '  Never.' 

'How  do  you  know  that  the  person  who  brought  this 
letter  was  from  Bust  ? '  inquired  he. 

'  The  letter  proposes  an  interview.  If  it  is  n't  from  him, 
the  cheat  would  be  found  out  when  I  go.' 

'  How  long  have  you  been  ferreting  out  this  matter  ? ' 

'  Several  weeks.' 

'  Have  you  worked  in  secret,  or  openly  ? '  inquired  Holmes. 

'  I  kept  the  matter  as  quiet  as  I  could,'  replied  Harson, 
'  because  I  did  n't  want  him  to  get  wind  of  it,  and  place 
obstacles  in  my  way ;  but  still,  I  was  obliged  to  employ 
several  persons  of  whom  I  know  little.' 

'  Then  this  Rust  is  the  man,  you  may  rely  on  it,'  said 
Holmes,  in  a  positive  manner.  '  He  has  discovered  that  you 
are  busy,  and  is  startled  at  it.  Depend  on  it,  this  wish 


204  HARRY    H ARSON. 

to  see  you  has  something  to  do  with  your  present  move 
ments.' 

'  I  thought  so  too,'  said  Harson,  '  and  shall  go  there  this 
morning.' 

*  I  '11  go  too,'  said  Holmes ;  '  and  the  sooner  \ve  start,  the 
better.' 

'  Thank  you,  thank  you,'  said  Harson,  stretching  out  his 
hand  ;  *  the  very  thing  I  wanted.' 

The  old  lawyer  said  no  more ;  but  after  searching  about 
his  room  for  his  hat  and  great-coat,  and  having  succeeded, 
without  any  great  difficulty,  in  putting  on  the  last,  (for  he 
had  no  idea  how  shrunken  and  attenuated  he  was,  and  it 
was  large  enough  for  a  man  of  double  his  size,)  and  sup 
ported  by  Harry's  steady  arm,  they  set  out. 

'  Stop  a  minute,'  said  Harson  ;  *  we  've  shut  Spite  in. 
There  '11  be  the  deuce  to  pay  if  we  leave  him.  Come,  pup.' 
He  opened  the  door ;  and  Spite  having  leisurely  obeyed  hia 
call,  they  resumed  their  walk. 


HARRY    H ARSON.  205 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

MICHAEL  RUST  sat  in  his  office  with  his  arms  twined 
round  his  knees,  and  his  chin  bowed  down  to  them,  like  a 
wild  beast  crouching  to  spring.  His  thin  cheek  was  thinner 
than  on  the  day  before ;  his  hair  tangled  and  matted.  But 
he  neither  moved  nor  changed  his  position ;  and  the  black 
flashing  eye,  which  darted  hither  and  thither,  never  resting, 
even  for  a  moment,  alone  showed  that  his  mind  was  on  the 
alert. 

He  was  awaiting  the  return  of  his  messenger.  Persons 
ascended  and  descended  the  stairs;  and  as  the  morning 
advanced,  and  the  hours  of  business  approached,  the  sound 
of  out-door  bustle  increased,  until  a  perfect  current  of 
human  beings  seemed  to  pour  through  the  street.  Still, 
Rust  sat  there  in  silence,  watching  the  return  of  his  clerk. 
Once,  he  fancied  that  he  distinguished  his  voice  in  the  entry. 
He  got  up,  opened  the  door,  and  looked  out ;  a  strange  man 
was  loitering  in  the  passage,  but  no  one  else.  He  shut  it, 
dragged  a  chair  to  the  middle  of  the  room,  stamped  it  down 
heavily,  and  flung  himself  into  it.  A  step  slowly  ascended 
the  stairs.  He  was  certain  this  time.  It  was  Kornicker. 
There  was  no  mistaking  that  heavy,  irregular  tread ;  but, 
nevertheless,  Rust  did  not  stir  until  the  door  opened  and 
Kornicker  walked  in. 

*  Your  answer ! '  said  Rust,  looking  at  him,  as  if  to  read 
his  success  in  his  features. 

'He '11  come.' 

'When?' 


206  HARRY    H ARSON. 

1  He  did  n't  say,'  replied  liis  clerk,  shutting  the  door  by 
butting  his  shoulder  against  it. 

4  Did  he  write  ? ' 

'No.' 

'  Good  ! '  replied  Rust,  abruptly.     'Any  thing  else  ? ' 

'  No.     If  you  've  done  with  me,  I  '11  get  my  breakfast.' 

'Go.' 

Kornicker  departed,  and  Rust  relapsed  into  his  old  atti 
tude,  occasionally  biting  his  nails,  or  passing  his  fingers 
through  his  matted  hair,  or  casting  a  suspicious  glance 
toward  the  door. 

Half  an  hour  had  passed,  and  Rust  was  absorbed  in  his 
own  thoughts,  when  he  was  startled  by  a  heavy  step  at  his 
door.  He  sat  up  in  his  chair,  and  listened  attentively,  hold 
ing  his  breath.  There  was  something  in  that  step  which  he 
did  not  like.  It  was  calm,  slow,  and  deliberate.  He  hoped 
that  it  would  pass  on,  but  it  did  not.  Two  hard  knocks  at 
the  door  followed. 

'  Come  in,'  said  Rust,  without  rising. 

The  door  opened,  and  Harson  and  Holmes  entered.  Still 
Rust  sat  where  he  was,  with  his  black  eyes  peering  from 
beneath  his  heavy  brows,  and  glancing  from  face  to  face. 

'  I  'm  seeking  a  Mr.  Rust,'  said  Harson,  advancing. 

'That's  me.     My  name  is  Rust,'  was  the  laconic  answer. 

'And  mine  is  Harson,'  replied  the  other.  '  I  received  this 
note  this  morning,'  said  he,  pointing  to  the  letter  which  he 
had  received  from  Kornicker,  '  and  have  come  to  keep  the 
appointment  proposed  in  it.' 

Rust  moved  uneasily  on  his  chair,  and  turned  to  the 
lawyer ;  but,  seeing  that  no  farther  efforts  at  opening  a  con 
versation  were  made  by  his  visitors,  he  pointed  to  Holmes, 
and  asked : 

'  Is  that  gentleman's  name  Henry  Harson  too  ? ' 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  207 

*  No,'  replied  Harson. 

'  Then  he  was  n't  invited  here.  My  note  was  to  Henry 
Harson,  and  to  no  one  else.  My  conversation  is  to  be  on 
private  matters,  which  I  don't  choose  to  make  known  to 
every  body.' 

'Perhaps  it  is  as  well  that  I  should  go,'  said  Holmes, 
without  any  trace  of  anger.  'I'll  leave  you,  Harry,  and 
will  return  in  half  an  hour.' 

He  was  leaving  the  room,  when  Harson  laid  his  hand  on 
his  arm,  and  said  : 

'  No,  no ;  do  n't  go,.  Dick ;  I  can't  spare  you.'  Turning  to 
Rust,  he  added :  '  There  are  no  secrets  between  this  man 
nnd  me,  and  I  do  n't  intend  that  there  shall  be.  So,  what 
you  have  to  say,  you  must -speak  out  before  us  both,  or  keep 
it  to  yourself.' 

Rust  eyed  him  for  a  few  moments  in  silence,  with  his  thin 
lips  closely  compressed,  and  then  looked  on  the  floor,  appa 
rently  making  up  his  mind.  At  length  he  said,  in  a  slow 
tone  :  *  So  you  will  have  him  here,  will  you  ?  Well,  be  it 
so.  Should  what  I  say  hit  hard,  thank  yourself  that  one 
more  knows  it  than  is  necessary  ! ' 

He  went  to  the  table  and  took  up  a  letter,  which  he 
handed  to  Harson.  *  Did  you  write  that  ? ' 

Harson  opened  it,  and  ran  his  eye  over  it.  *  I  did,'  said 
he.  '  How  came  you  by  it  ? ' 

'No  matter.  You'll  find  that  out  some  day;  but  not 
now.  I  may  have  borrowed  it,  I  may  have  found  jft,  or 
bought  it,  or  begged  it,  or  stolen  it.  Michael  Rust,  you 
know,  is  not  too  good  to  do  any  thing.  I  think  you  hinted 
something  of  the  kind  in  it.' 

Harson  passed  the  letter  to  Holmes,  who,  seating  himself, 
deliberately  perused  it,  and  turned  it  over,  and  examined  the 
with  a  kind  of  habitual  caution.  There  was  a  smile 


208  HARRY    H ARSON. 

upon  his  lips  as  he  read  it,  that  puzzled  Rust.  '  It  's  not  at 
all  improbable  that  he  may  have  stolen  it,'  said  he,  folding  it 
up,  and  returning  it  to  Harson.  *  The  language  is  free,  but 
no  doubt  it  is  deserved.' 

Bust's  eyes  fairly  shot  fire,  as  they  encountered  the  calm, 
steady  gaze  of  the  old  lawyer.  But  he  could  not  look  him 
down,  and  he  turned  away  and  said  : 

'  I  'rn  not  fond  of  law,  or  there  is  that  in  that  letter  which, 
if  revenged  in  a  court  of  justice,  would  fall  heavily  upon 
the  writer  of  it.' 

1  Perhaps  so,  perhaps  so,'  said  Holmes,  in  reply. 

4  Well,  Sir,  I  '11  not  waste  time  about  this  matter,  but  will 
state  why  I  sent  for  you ;  which  was,  not  to  ask  favors,  but 
to  warn  you  against  the  consequence  of  your  own  acts.  For 
weeks,  a  man  whose  gray  hairs  might  have  brought  prudence 
with  them,  has  been  at  work  in  the  dark,  tracking  my  foot 
steps,  prying  into  my  actions ;  throwing  out  insinuations 
against  me ;  asserting  nothing  openly,  but  doing  every  thing 
in  secret ;  working  with  the  vilest  tools,  and  frequenting  the 
haunts  of  the  very  offscouring  of  the  earth.  It  was  a  noble 
pursuit,'  said  he,  bitterly,  *  and  it  was  worthy  of  the  person 
upon  whom  I  was  at  last  able  to  fix  it.  That  person  was 
yow,'  said  he,  pointing  to  Harson.  '  Stop,  Sir ! '  said  he, 
seeing  that  Harson  was  going  to  speak,  'stop,  Sir.  Your 
turn  will  come.  Hear  what  /  yet  have  to  say.  I  have  told 
you  what  you  have  done ;  I  have  told  you  too  that  I  hated 
law ;  but  if  you  think  that  I  am  a  man  who  will  submit  to 
be  hunted  down  like  a  beast,  and  branded  in  the  eyes  of 
the  world,  with  impunity,  you  do  n't  know  Michael  Rust.' 

Harson's  fingers  had  gradually  closed,  until  his  fist  as 
sumed  a  form  not  unlike  the  head  of  a  sledge-hammer ;  and 
for  a  short  time  it  was  a  matter  of  no  small  doubt  whether 
it  would  not  light  upon  the  sharp,  fierce  face  that  glared 


HARRY    H ARSON.  209 

upon  him.  But  a  cautioning  glance  from  Holmes  called  him 
to  himself;  and  he  replied  in  a  manner  which,  if  less  to  the 
point,  was  at  least  more  peaceable:  'What  I  have  done,  I 
will  abide  by;  what  I  intend  to  do,  you'll  find  out,  and  that 
soon.  Take  your  own  course,  and  I  '11  take  mine.  If  you 
are  innocent,  you'll  not  be  injured;  if  you  are  not,  you'll 
get  your  deserts.' 

Rust  bit  his  lips  at  this  quiet  answer.  '  Perhaps,'  said  he, 
in  a  low,  sneering  tone,  'since  you  seem  to  be  so  anxious  to 
pry  into  my  conduct,  you  may  obtain  more  authentic  infor 
mation  by  applying  to  me  in  person ;  and  perhaps  you  will 
not  object  to  make  my  misdeeds,  of  which  you  hint  so  freely, 
known  to  me,  who  certainly  am  interested  in  learning  what 
they  are.' 

Harson  drew  Holmes  to  the  other  end  of  the  room,  where 
they  whispered  together  for  some  moments  ;  after  which, 
Holmes  turned  to  Rust,  and  said : 

4  Your  name,  I  think,  is  Michael  Rust  ? ' 

'  That  is  my  name,'  replied  Rust,  bowing  stiffly. 

'And  you  accuse  Mr.  Harson  of  having  endeavored  to 
injure  your  character  ? ' 

'  I  do,'  replied  Rust. 

'Perhaps  your  memory  may  lead  you  astray,  and  his 
remarks  and  allusions  may  refer  to  another  than  yourself.' 

Michael  Rust  turned  from  him  with  a  contemptuous 
smile  ;  and  then  tapping  the  letter  with  his  finger,  said : 
'Ink  never  forgets.  Henry  Harson  and  his  friend  may  both 
vary  their  story,  but  this  is  always  the  same,  and  the  slan 
ders  once  uttered  against  me  here,  are  here  still  unchanged 
and  unsoftened.' 

'Against  you  ? '  repeated  Holmes.  *  Read  it  again.  You 
are  not  even  mentioned  in  it.' 

Rust  glanced  at  it ;  and  the  lawyer  thought  that  for  a 


210  HARRY    H ARSON. 

moment  he  observed  a  change  in  his  features.  If  so,  it  was 
but  momentary;  for  he  answered  in  the  same  low  tone, 
though  perhaps  with  even  more  of  a  sneer : 

'  It  was  a  trap,  was  it  ?  Pah  !  a  child  could  see  through 
it !  It  alludes  to  one  Henry  Cotton.  The  charges  are  made 
against  him.  I  '11  save  you  the  trouble  of  farther  manoeuvring 
to  obtain  information  on  that  point,  by  informing  you  that 
Henry  Colton  and  Michael  Rust  are  one.  I  '11  inform  you 
too  that  you  knew  it  before  you  came  here.  If  you  wish  it, 
I  '11  give  you  the  same  admission  in  writing.' 

'I  accept  your  offer,'  said  Holmes,  quietly.  'There's 
paper,'  said  he,  pointing  to  the  table ;  *  write  it  on  that.' 

Rust  cast  an  angry  glance  at  him,  and  seemed  to  hesitate 
but  he  saw  that  he  was  watched  narrowly,  and  must  not 
shrink.     So  he  sat  down  and  scrawled  something,  which  he 
pushed  to  Holmes. 

Holmes  read  it  over  slowly  :  'Alter  that ;  the  wording  is 
not  clear,'  said  he,  pointing  out  a  paragraph  which  did 
not  suit  him. 

Rust  took  up  the  pen  and  altered  the  phrase. 

'Perhaps  that  will  do?'  said  he,  again  handing  it  to 
Holmes. 

'  That 's  just  what  I  want,'  replied  the  lawyer,  running  his 
eye  over  it,  and  apparently  weighing  every  word.  '  But  you 
are  very  forgetful.  You  have  n't  signed  it.' 

Rust  took  the  paper  and  signed  his  name  to  it.  '  I  hope 
you  are  satisfied.  I  suppose  you  have  me  now,'  said  he, 
with  a  sneer. 

'  I  think  I  have]  replied  Holmes,  folding  up  the  paper, 
and  putting  it  in  his  pocket.  '  Have  you  any  farther  re 
marks  to  make  to  Mr.  Harson  or  myself?  What  you  have 
done  has  been  of  much  service,  and  will  save  us  a  great 
deal  of  trouble.' 


HARRY    HARSON.  211 

*  None,'  replied  Rust ;  'I  sent  for  him]  said  he,  pointing  to 
Harson,  'to  let  him  know  that  I  was  aware  of  his  proceed 
ings,  and  to  warn  him  that  I  was  prepared  to  defend  myself; 
and  that  if  he  persisted  in  his  attacks  upon  me,  he  would  do 
so  at  his  peril.' 

'  It  is  well,'  said  Holmes.  *  It 's  frank  in  you,  and  no  doubt 
Mr.  Harson  feels  grateful.  And  now  that  you  have  finished, 
perhaps  you  will  listen  to  a  strange  tale  which  I  am  going 
to  narrate  to  you.  I  wish  you  to  pay  particular  attention, 
as  you  may  find  it  interesting.  It's  quite  romantic,  but 
strictly  true.' 

'  Once  upon  a  time,  (that 's  the  way  stories  begin,  I  think,) 
there  were  two  brothers  living  at  a  place  far  from  this  city? 
the  names  of  whom  were  George  and  Henry  Colton.  The 
former  received  a  large  property  from  a  distant  relative, 
while  the  means  of  the  latter  were  limited ;  so  much  so,  that 
but  for  the  liberality  of  his  elder  brother,  he  would  have 
found  it  utterly  impossible  to  live  in  the  style  and  manner 
in  which  he  always  did  and  still  is  accustomed  to  live.' 

'  Well,  Sir,  does  this  refer  to  me  ? '  said  Rust ;  '  and  if  it 
does,  and  is  true,  what  then  ? ' 

*  I  have  not  finished,'  replied  Holmes.     *  You  shall  hear 
the  rest.     Shortly  after  the  accession  of  George  Colton  to 
this  property,  he  married ;   but  previous  to  doing  so,  to 
secure   his   brother   against   want,   he    settled    upon    him 
property  sufficient  to  produce  him  a  handsome  income.' 

'  Well,  Sir,'  said  Rust,  '  what  then  ? ' 

'You  shall  hear,'  replied  Holmes.  'By  this  marriage 
George  Colton  had  two  children,  who  in  the  course  of  law 
would  have  inherited  his  entire  property,  had  they  been 
living  at  the  time  of  his  death.  These  children  had  reached 
the  ages  of  two  or  three  years,  when  they  were  lost  in  a  very 
singular  manner.  They  had  been  left  alone  by  their  nurse, 


212  HARRY    HARSON. 

in  a  room  in  their  father's  house ;  and  when  she  returned, 
after  the  lapse  of  a  very  few  minutes,  they  were  gone ;  and 
from  that  day  to  this  their  parents  have  had  no  tidings  of 
them.  Search  was  made  in  every  direction  ;  rewards  were 
offered ;  persons  were  employed  in  all  parts  of  the  country, 
and  descriptions  of  the  missing  children  were  placarded  in 
every  quarter.  No  one  was  more  earnest  and  untiring  in  his 
efforts  to  find  them  than  Henry  Colton,  the  younger  brother ; 
for  he  remembered  only  his  brother's  past  kindness  ;  entirely 
forgetting,  that  if  these  children  were  dead,  he  would,  in  all 
probability,  receive  his  brother's  vast  property.  But  he  was 
equally  unsuccessful  with  th,e  others.  By  degrees,  hope 
grew  fainter,  and  the  efforts  of  all,  except  this  noble  younger 
brother,  relaxed ;  but  he  travelled,  wrote,  had  agents  em 
ployed  in  every  direction,  and,  I  am  told,  is  still  endeavoring 
to  unravel  this  mystery.  And  now,'  said  he,  in  a  low,  stern 
tone,  '  shall  I  tell  you  the  reason  why  he  failed  ?  It  was 
this  :  The  agents  employed  by  him  were  put  on  a  false 
scent ;  and  although  a  high  reward  was  offered  for  the  dis 
covery  of  the  children,  a  higher  one  was  paid  for  keeping 
the  place  of  their  concealment  secret.  Shall  I  tell  you,' 
added  the  lawyer,  in  the  same  tone,  '  who  paid  the  bribe  ? 
That  same  noble  Henry  Colton,  the  younger  brother ;  and 
what 's  more,  that  same  man  sometimes  bore  the  name  of 
Michael  Rust.  All  this  can  be  proved  beyond  the  shadow 
of  a  doubt,  and  will  be,  in  a  court  of  justice,  if  we  are  com 
pelled  to  do  it.' 

The  lawyer  paused,  and  looked  Rust  steadily  in  the  face. 

4  Well,  Sir,'  said  Rust,  '  part  of  what  you  say  is  true.  I 
know  that  the  children  were  lost ;  I  know  that  I  did  what  I 
could  to  find  them.  As  to  the  rest,  it  is  false,  and  I  care 
nothing  for  it.  They  are  dead,  I  fear.' 

*  Not  quite,'  replied  Holmes.     '  One  of  them  is  already 


HARRY    EAR  SON.  213 

rescued ;  so  that  Michael  Rust's  hopes  and  schemes  are 
thwarted ;  and  his  only  chance  to  escape  the  arm  of  the  law 
is  to  give  up  the  other,  or  to  tell  where  he  is.' 

Rust  turned  toward  him,  and  looking  him  steadily  in  the 
face,  said :  '  Well,  Sir,  if  this  be  true,  I  'm  glad  of  it ;  but  if 
some  designing  scoundrel  is  desirous  of  palming  off  his  own 
brats  on  an  honest  man,  to  swindle  him  out  of  his  property, 
let  him  beware,  lest  he  run  his  legs  into  shackles.  For  my 
part,  I  Ve  no  doubt  that  the  whole  tale  is  a  fabrication  of 
that  old  man's,'  said  he,  pointing  to  Harson,  '  got  up  for  no 
honest  purpose.' 

'  That 's  false  ! '  replied  Holmes,  sternly.  '  Lie  as  you 
will ;  deny  as  stoutly  as  you  please ;  I  tell  you  that  what  I 
have  said  is  true,  and  that  you  know  it  to  be  so.' 

Rust  grew  deadly  pale,  but  said  nothing. 

'And  I  tell  you  again,'  said  Holmes,  in  the  same  stern 
voice,  'that  your  only  hope  of  escaping  punishment  is  in 
giving  up  the  remaining  child,  or  in  giving  such  informa 
tion  as  may  lead  to  his  discovery.  Do  that,  and  we  will 
show  you  all  the  favor  we  can.' 

'  Nay,  more,'  added  Ilarson  ;  £  we  will  never  let  it  be 
known  what  you  had  to  do  with  it.  We  '11  let  it  be  supposed 
that  the  children  were  stolen,  and  found.  We  will  keep  it 
quiet,  won't  we,  Ned  ? '  said  he,  walking  up  to  the  lawyer, 
and  laying  his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

'  You  Ve  said  so,  and  your  promise  must  be  kept,'  replied 
Holmes.  '  I  should  n't  have  made  it.  But  you  must  decide 
at  once.' 

Michael  Rust  had  sat  as  still  as  a  statue,  merely  turning 
his  eyes  from  one  to  the  other,  as  they  spoke. 

'  Have  you  done  ? '  asked  he,  in  a  voice  as  quiet  and  com 
posed  as  if  the  threats  just  uttered  had  no  reference  to 
himself. 


214  HARRY    HARSON. 

*  You  have  heard  all  that  we  have  to  offer,'  said  Holmes. 

'  You  're  very  kind,'  replied  Rust ;  *  you  're  very  kind ;  but 
you  do  n't  know  Michael  Rust.  He  accepts  favors  from  no 
man.  There,  there  —  go  !  He  values  your  threats  and 
promises  alike ;  and  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  will  turn 
him  one  inch  from  his  own  course,  to  aid  you  in  your  dis 
honest  purpose  of  passing  off  your  own  brats  as  the  lost 
children  of  George  Colton.  He  can't  lend  himself  to  such 
an  iniquitous  scheme  —  it 's  against  his  conscience.  Good- 
morning.  Our  interview  is  ended,  I  think.  I'm  sorry  to 
see  gray  hairs  so  steeped  in  depravity.' 

'  Michael  Rust,'  said  Holmes,  turning  to  him,  '  you  have 
sealed  your  own  doom.  I  'm  glad  you  've  rejected  our 
offers,  and  I  now  withdraw  them.  You're  unworthy  of 
them  ;  and  you  shall  have  no  other  grace  than  that  what 
the  law  extends  to  a  felon.' 

Rust  bowed.  4  You  're  kind.  I  shall  not  trouble  you  to 
repeat  the  offer.  As  for  the  grace  extended  to  felons,  I 
believe  there  is  a  law  which  makes  a  conspiracy  to  defraud 
a  felony  likewise.  It  takes  three  to  make  a  conspiracy,  in 
law  ;  but  I  have  no  doubt  you  have  abettors.  Perhaps  you 
had  better  examine  the  matter.  I  wish  you  good-morning, 
gentlemen  ;  I  wish  to  be  alone.' 

Rust  sat  without  moving,  until  the  sound  of  their  footsteps 
descending  the  stairs  was  lost,  and  then  he  sprang  to  his  feet. 

1  Now,  then,'  exclaimed  he,  '  I  know  where  I  am  !  Now  I 
can  see  where  to  strike.  Ha !  ha !  We  '11  see  who  conquers, 
Harry  Harson  or  Michael  Rust  —  a  desperate  man,  who  has 
no  alternative  but  to  succeed  or  die.  I  know  where  the 
mine  is  to  be  sprung ;  and  I  will  countermine  ! ' 

Listless,  desponding,  and  irresolute  as  to  his  course,  as  he 
had  been  before  his  interview  with  Harson,  all  trace  of  irreso 
lution  had  disappeared  now.  He  had  decided  upon  the  steps 


HARRY    UARSON.  215 

to  be  taken ;  and,  desperate  as  they  were,  he  was  not  the 
man  to  hesitate.  The  anxiety  which  had  borne  him  down 
disappeared  as  he  ascertained  the  extent  of  his  danger,  and 
was  able  to  nerve  himself  to  cope  with  it ;  and  his  manner 
was  not  only  cheerful  but  merry,  and  his  eye  shone  with  a 
self-confidence  not  unlike  that  of  a  gladiator  preparing  for  a 
conflict  in  which  he  or  his  adversary  must  perish. 

Lingering  in  his  office  only  long  enough  to  give  his  visitors 
time  to  get  some  distance  off,  he  put  on  his  hat,  locked  the 
door,  placed  the  key  over  it,  so  that  Kornicker  might  know 
where  to  find  it,  and  sallied  out  into  the  street. 


216  HARRY    HARSON. 


CHAPTER      XIX. 

NOTWITHSTANDING  his  having  made  what  most  persons 
would  have  considered  a  hearty  meal  at  Harry  Ilarson's,  Mr. 
Kornicker  had  nevertheless  such  perfect  reliance  on  his  own 
peculiar  gastronomic  abilities,  that  he  did  not  in  the  least 
shrink  from  again  testing  them.  Leaving  Michael  Rust's 
presence  with  an  alacrity  which  bordered  upon  haste,  he 
descended  into  the  refectory  with  somewhat  of  a  jaunty 
air,  humming  a  tune,  and  keeping  time  to  it  by  an  occasion 
al  flourish  of  the  fingers.  Having  seated  himself,  he  closed 
his  eyes ;  thrust  his  feet  at  full  length  under  the  table ; 
plunged  both  hands  to  the  very  bottom  of  his  pockets,  where 
they  grasped  spasmodically  two  cents  and  a  small  key,  and 
laughed  silently  for  more  than  a  minute. 

'A  queer  dog  !  a  very  queer  dog !  d d  queer,  old 

Michael  is !  Well,  that's  his  business,  not  mine.' 

Having  thus  expressed  his  opinion,  he  sat  up,  became 
grave,  and  looked  about  in  search  of  the  waiter.  In  doing 
so,  his  eyes  encountered  those  of  a  short  fat  man  at  a  table 
near  him,  who  at  the  first  glance  seemed  to  be  reading  a 
newspaper,  but  at  the  second,  seemed  to  be  reconnoitering 
him  over  it.  Mr.  Kornicker,  observing  this,  not  only  returned 
his  glance,  but  added  a  wink  to  it  by  way  of  interest.  The 
man  thereupon  laid  down  his  paper,  and  nodded. 

Mr.  Kornicker  nodded  in  reply ;  and  said  he  hoped  he  was 
well,  and  that  his  wife  and  small  children  were  equally 
fortunate. 


HARRY    HARSON.  217 

The  face  of  the  stranger  was  a  round,  jolly  face,  with  two 
little  eyes  that  twinkled  and  glistened  between  their  fat  lids, 
as  if  they  were  very  devils  for  fun ;  and  his  whole  appear 
ance  was  cosy  and  comfortable.  His  chin  was  double  ;  his 
stomach  round  and  plump,  with  an  air  of  respectability; 
and  he  occasionally  passed  his  hand  over  it,  as  if  to  say : 
'  Ah  ha !  beat  that  if  you  can  ! '  But  notwithstanding  his 
merry  look,  at  Mr.  Kornicker's  last  remark  his  face  grew 
long ;  and  with  a  melancholy  shake  of  his  head,  he  pointed 
to  his  hat,  which  hung  on  a  peg  above  him,  and  was  swathed 
in  a  broad  band  of  crape,  terminating  in  two  stiff  skirts  pro 
jecting  from  it  like  a  rudder,  and  giving  it  the  appearance  of 
a  corpulent  butterfly  in  mourning,  at  roost  on  the  wall. 

'  Ah  ! '  said  Mr.  Kornicker,  looking  at  the  hat,  '  that 's 
it?' 

'4Yes,'  replied  the  stranger,  with  a  deep  sigh,  *  that 's  it.' 

'  Father  ? '  inquired  Mr.  Kornicker,  nodding  significantly 
toward  the  hat. 

'  No  —  wife,'  replied  the  other. 

'  Dead  I '  inquired  Mr.  Kornicker. 

'  Dead  as  a  hammer.' 

'  Was  it  long  or  short  ?  consumption  or  fits  ? '  asked  Mr. 
Kornicker,  drawing  up  his  feet,  and  turning  so  as  to  face  the 
stranger,  by  way  of  evincing  the  interest  which  he  felt  in  his 
melancholy  situation. 

The  man  shook  his  head,  and  was  so  affected  that  he  was 
troubled  with  a  temporary  cold  in  his  head ;  which  having 
alleviated  by  the  aid  of  his  handkerchief,  he  said :  *  Poor 
woman,  she  undertook  to  present  me  with  a  fine  boy,  last 
week,  and  it  proved  too  much  for  her.  It  exhausted  her 
animal  natur',  and  she  decamped  on  a  sudden.  She  was  a 
very  fine  woman  —  a  very  fine  woman.  I  always  said 
she  was.' 

10 


218  HARRY    HARSON. 

'And  the  child  ? '  inquired  Kornicker,  '  I  hope  it 's  well.1 

'  Quite  well,  I  thank  you.  It  went  along  with  her.  They 
are  both  better  off :  saints  in  heaven,  both  of  'em  ;  out  of 
this  wale  of  tears.' 

Mr.  Kornicker  told  him  to  «heer  up.  He  said  that  ever] 
man  had  a  crook  in  his  lot.  Some  men  had  big  crooks,  and 
some  men  had  little  crooks ;  and  although  this  crook  made 
rather  a  bad  elbow  in  his  lot,  that  perhaps  all  the  rest  wai 
square  and  straight,  and  he  could  build  on  it  to  advantage, 
especially  if  it  was  twenty-live  feet  by  a  hundred,  which  was 
the  ordinary  width  and  length  of  '  lots  in  general.' 

Having  deiivered  himself  of  this  rather  confused  allegory, 
Mr.  Kornicker,  by  way  of  farther  consolation,  drew  out  his 
snuff-box,  and  stretching  out  as  far  as  was  possible  without 
falling  from  his  chair,  tendered  it  to  the  stranger,  who,  in 
return,  leaning  so  far  forward  as  slightly  to  raise  his  person 
from  the  chair,  gently  inserted  his  ringers  in  the  box,  and 
helped  himself  to  a  pinch,  at  the  same  time  remarking  thai 
it 4  was  a  great  comfort,  in  his  trying  situation,  to  find  friends 
who  sympathized  with  his  misfortunes.  That  he  had  found 
it  so  ;  and  that  Mr.  Kornicker  was  a  man  whose  feelings  did 
credit  to  human  natur'.' 

Kornicker  disclaimed  being  any  thing  above  the  ordinary 
run  of  men,  or  that  his  feelings  were  more  than  every  other 
man  possessed,  or  ought  to  possess.  But  the  stranger  was 
vehement  in  his  assertions  to  the  contrary;  so  much  so,  that 
he  rose  from  his  seat,  and  drawing  a  chair  to  the  opposite 
side  of  Kornicker's  table,  proposed  that  they  should  break 
fast  together. 

Kornicker  shook  his  head  : 

1  It 's  against  the  agreement,'  said  he ;  '  it  can't  be  done.' 

*  But  it  can,  Sir  —  it  shall,  Sir  !  A  man  of  your  sympa 
thies  is  not  to  be  met  with  every  day,  and  must  be  breakfast- 


HARRY    HARSON.  219 

ed  with,  whether  he  will  or  not  —  agreement  or  no  agree 
ment.  Do  n't  agreement  me  ! '  said  the  stranger,  lifting  up 
his  chair,  and  setting  it  down  opposite  Kornicker,  with  great 
emphasis.  '  What 's  the  natur'  of  this  agreement  ? ' 

Mr.  Kornicker  assumed  a  very  grave  and  legal  expression 
of  countenance,  and  without  replying,  asked  : 

*  What 's  your  name  ? ' 

'  Ezra  Scrake.' 

'I,  Edward  Kornicker,  forbid  you,  Ezra  Scrake,  from 
breakfasting  with  me ;  telling  you  that  it  is  contrary  to  a 
certain  agreement,  referred  to  but  not  set  forth  ;  and  I  now 
repeat  the  request  that  you  will  forthwith  retire  to  another 
table,  and  that  I  be  permitted  to  take  my  meal  by  myself.' 
He  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair,  and  looked  Mr.  Scrake 
full  in  the  face. 

'And  I,  Ezra  Scrake,  say  that  I  won't  leave  this  table,  and 
that  I  will  breakfast  with  a  fellow  whose  benevolence  might 
warm  the  witals  of  a  tiger.' 

'  Very  well,  Sir,'  said  Kornicker,  relaxing  from  his  former 
severe  expression;  'I've  done  my  duty.  Old  Rust  can't 
blame  me.  The  breach  of  contract  is  not  on  my  part.  I  'm 
acting  under  compulsion.  Just  recollect  that  I  desired  you 
to  leave  me,  in  case  it  gets  me  into  hot  water,  and  that  you 
refused ;  that 's  all.  Now,  old  fellow,  what  '11  you  take  ? 
Only  recollect  that  you  are  breakfasting  with  me  under  pro 
test,  and  that  each  man  rides  his  own  pony.' 

The  stranger  nodded,  and  said  that  of  course  he  would 
'  foot  his  own  bill.' 

These  preliminaries  being  settled,  the  boy,  who  had  been 
standing  at  their  elbow,  in  a  state  of  ecstatic  delight  at  the 
proceedings  of  Mr.  Kornicker,  with  whom  he  had  become 
familiar,  and  whom  he  regarded  as  a  gentleman  of  great 
legal  acumen,  was  desired  by  the  stranger  to  hand  him  the 


220  HARRY    HARSON. 

bill  of  fare,  and  not  to  keep  him  waiting  all  day.  Having 
been  gratified  in  this  respect,  Mr.  Scrake  commenced  at  the 
top  and  deliberately  whispered  his  way  to  the  bottom  of  the 
list. 

'  Beef-steak :  shall  I  say  for  two  ? '  asked  he,  looking  up  at 
Kornicker. 

'  Yes,  but  always  under  protest,'  said  Mr.  Kornicker,  wink 
ing  at  him.  '  Do  n't  forget  that.' 

'Of  course.  Now,  my  son,  what  trimmings  have  you  got?' 
said  he  to  the  boy. 

'  'Taters.' 

'Are  they  kidneys,  blue-noses,  or  fox  ?  —  and  will  they  bu'st 
open  white  and  mealy  ?' 

'  They  'm  prime,'  replied  the  boy. 

'  Bring  one  for  me  —  or,  stop  ;  are  they  extra  ? ' 

'  We  throw  them  in  with  the  steak,  gratis.' 

'  Then  bring  a  dishful,  with  coffee,  bread,  and  whatever  else 
adds  to  the  breakfast,  without  adding  to  the  bill.' 

The  boy,  having  no  other  interest  in  the  establishment  than 
that  of  securing  his  own  wages  and  meals,  was  highly  de 
lighted  at  this  considerate  order  of  Mr.  Scrake,  and  forthwith 
disappeared  to  obey  it. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Mr.  Scrake,  after  having  deliberately 
re-perused  the  bill  of  fare,  and  not  observing  any  thing  else 
which  could  be  got  for  nothing,  laid  it  down,  and  looking  at 
Mr.  Kornicker,  who  was  gazing  abstractedly  at  the  table 
cloth,  said  that  he  hoped  he  (Mr.  Scrake)  was  not  going  to  be 
impertinent;  and  as  Mr.  Kornicker  made  no  other  reply 
than  that  of  looking  at  him,  as  if  he  considered  it  a  matter 
of  some  doubt  whether  he  was  or  was  not,  he  elucidated  the 
meaning  of  his  remark,  by  inquiring  who  Old  Rust  was. 

'  The  old  gentleman  that  caters  for  me,'  replied  Kornicker 
carelessly. 


HARRY    HARSON.  221 

'And  does  he  make  you  eat  alone  ? ' 

'If  I  dine  double,  lie '11  stop  the  prog  ;  that's  all.' 

'A  sing'lar  bargain  —  quite  sing'lar  ;  very  sing'lar,  in  fact. 
Does  he  keep  a  tight  eye  over  you  ? ' 

Mr.  Kornicker  did  not  exactly  know  what  kind  of  an  eye 
a  tight  eye  was,  but  he  replied  :  '  Sometimes  he  does,  some 
times  he  do  n't.  He 's  nigh  enough  to  do  it.  His  office  is 
overhead.' 

*  Lawyer,  I  suppose  ?  —  must  be,'  said  Mr.  Scrake,  drum 
ming  carelessly  on  the  table. 

'  You  're  out,  old  fellow.  I'm  with  him,  and  should  know 
something  of  him  ;  and  he  isn't.' 

'Ah  !'  said  the  stranger,  leaning  back  and  yawning,  and 
then  sharpening  his  knife  on  the  fork.  '  What  is  he,  then  ? ' 

Mr.  Kornicker  raised  his  finger  gently  to  his  nose,  winked 
so  knowingly  at  Mr.  Scrake  that  he  caused  that  gentleman 
to  stop  short  in  his  performance  to  look  at  him  ;  after  which 
he  shut  both  eyes,  and  gave  vent  to  a  violent  inward  con 
vulsion  of  laughter. 

'  What  is  he  ? '  repeated  Kornicker ;  then  sinking  his 
voice,  and  leaning  over  the  table,  he  whispered  in  Mr. 
Scrake'sear,  'He 'shell.' 

'  No  !  he  is  n't  though,  is  he  ? '  said  Mr.  Scrake,  dropping 
his  knife  and  fork,  and  sinking  back  in  his  chair. 

'  Yes,  he  is,'  repeated  Mr.  Kornicker  ;  '  and  if  you  were  a 
certain  gentleman  that  I  know,  you  'd  find  it  out.  He  will 
some  day,  I  rather  think.' 

'  Are  you  that  individual  ? '  inquired  Mr.  Scrake,  with  an 
air  of  deep  interest. 

'  No,  I  a'  n't,  but  I  suspect  some  one  else  is.  But  come,' 
said  he,  '  there 's  the  breakfast ;  so  let 's  be  at  it,  and  drop  all 
other  discussion.' 

This  remark  found  an  answering  echo  in  the  stomach  of 


222  HARRY    HARSON. 

Mr.  Scrake,.  who  resumed  the  sharpening  of  his  knife  as  the 
breakfast  entered  the  room,  and  did  not  desist  until  the  steak 
was  on  the  table,  when  he  immediately  assaulted  it. 

'  Shall  I  help  you  ?     What  part  will  you  take  ? ' 

'  Any  part,'  replied  Kornicker,  carelessly. 

'  Well,  it 's  singular ;  I  never  could  carve.  I  '11  help  you 
as  I  would  help  myself,'  said  Mr.  Scrake,  in  his  ignorance 
depositing  on  Mr.  Kornicker's  plate  an  exceedingly  tough 
piece  of  dry  meat,  and  upon  his  own  a  cut  which  was  re 
markably  tender  and  juicy. 

'  Do  you  always  help  yourself  as  you  have  helped  me  ? ' 
said  Mr.  Kornicker,  snuffing  with  great  deliberation,  and  eye 
ing  his  portion  with  no  very  contented  eye. 

'  Always,  always.' 

'  Then  let  me  tell  you,  my  good  fellow,  that  you  do  your 
self  d d  great  injustice.' 

'  Ha  !  ha !  good  —  very  good  ;  sheer  ignorance  on  my 
part,  upon  my  soul.  *  But  you  were  telling  me  about  this 
man,  this  Rust,'  said  Mr.  Scrake,  mashing  his  potatoes,  and 
entombing  a  lump  of  butter  in  the  heart  of  a  small  pyramid 
of  them.  *  You  said  he  was  hell,  or  the  Devil,  or  something 
of  that  sort.  What  then  ?  Eh  ? ' 

Kornicker,  though  not  at  all  pleased  with  the  ignorance 
of  his  companion  in  the  particular  branch  in  which  it  had 
just  displayed  itself,  was  not  of  a  sulky  disposition,  and  was 
easily  brought  into  a  communicative  mood,  particularly  as 
Mr.  Scrake  begged  him,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  to  tell  him 
which  was  the  best  part  of  a  beef-steak,  so  that  he  might 
avoid  in  future  the  mortification  of  being  guilty  of  a  similar 
error. 

As  the  coffee  disappeared,  and  the  beef-steak  followed, 
Mr.  Scrake  seemed  to  relax,  and  to  forget  that  his  hat  hung 
over  his  head,  commemorative  of  the  recent  decease  of  Mrs. 


HARRY    II ARSON.  223 

Scrake,  and  became  quite  jocular  on  the  subject  of  the  fair 
sex,  congratulating  Kornicker  upon  his  looks ;  calling  him  a 
lucky  dog,  and  telling  him  that  if  he  were  him,  he'd  '  make 
up  to  some  charming  young  woman  with  a  fortune,  and  be  off 
with  her.'  He  then  went  into  a  detail  of  his  own  juvenile 
indiscretions,  relating  many  incidents  of  his  life ;  some  of 
which  were  amusing,  some  ridiculous,  some  tragic,  some 
pathetic,  and  not  a  few  quite  indecent.  It  was  wonderful 
what  a  devil  that  fat-cheeked,  little-eyed,  round-stomached 
fellow  had  been.  Who  could  resist  the  influence  of  such  a 
man  ?  Not  poor  Kornicker ;  it  gradually  had  its  effect  upon 
him,  for  he  in  turn  grew  communicative.  He  grew  merry 
over  the  rare  doings  which  had  taken  place  in  Rust's  den. 
He  then  descanted  upon  the  peculiarities  of  the  old  man ; 
his  fierce  fits  of  passion,  his  cold,  shrewd,  caustic  manners, 
his  long  absences,  and  his  sudden  returns ;  how  profoundly 
secret  he  kept  himself  and  his  mode  of  life.  'And,'  said  he, 
in  conclusion,  '  I  know  nothing  of  him.  He  's  a  queer  dog, 
a  wonderful  queer  one.  It  would  take  a  long  time  to  fathom 
him,  I  can  tell  you.  I've  been  with  him  for  a  long  time; 
and  am  his  confidential  adviser,  his  lawyer,  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing ;  and  yet  I  Ve  never  done  but  two  things  for  him.7 

*  You  do  n't  say  so ! '  exclaimed  Mr.  Scrake,  laying  down 
his  knife   and  fork,   and  looking  at  him  with  his  mouth 
open ;  '  and  pray  what  were  those  things  ? ' 

'  I  sued  one  man,  (being  a  lawyer,  you  know,')  said  he, 
nodding  in  an  explanatory  way  at  Mr.  Scrake,  '  and  carried 
a  letter  to  another.' 

'  Ah !  who  were  those  fortunate  individuals  ? ' 

*  Poh !  I  suppose  there 's  no  secret  about  it.     The  man 
sued  was  one  Enoch  Grosket.     The  other  was  one  Henry 
Harson ;  a  jolly  old  boy  he  ivas,  too.     I  breakfasted  with 
him  ;  a  prime  fellow  ;  keeps  a  d d  ugly  cur,  though.' 


224  HARRY    H ARSON. 

*  Enoch  Grosket,  Henry  Harson ! '  said  the  stranger,  mus- 
ing ;  'I  Ve  heard  of  them,  I  think.     Who  are  they  ? ' 

*  It  is  more  than  I  can  tell,'  replied  Kornicker.     '  That 's 
the  mystery  of  my  situation.     I  know  nothing  about  any 
thing  I'm  doing,  or  of  Rust,  or  his  acquaintances.' 

1  Why,  you  must  know  what  you  sued  the  man  for,'  said 
Mr.  Scrake,  earnestly;  'you  must  know  that,  surely.' 

'  Yes,  but  it 's  a  height  of  knowledge  which  do  n't  carry 
much  information  with  it,'  replied  Mr.  Kornicker.  *  I  sued 
him  on  a  promissory  note.  What  he  made  it  for,  or  how 
Rust  got  it,  or  any  thing  more  about  him,  or  it,  or  Ilarson, 
or  Rust,  I  know  as  little  as  you.' 

The  stranger  drew  himself  up,  and  looking  at  him  gravely, 
said  in  a  serious  and  even  stern  tone :  '  Do  you  mean  to  say 
that  you  are  entirely  ignorant  of  every  thing  respecting  this 
Rust ;  his  family,  his  business,  his  acquaintances,  his  associ 
ates,  his  habits,  his  plans  and  operations  ?  —  in  short,  that 
you  know  nothing  more  than  you  have  mentioned  to  me  ? ' 

The  other  nodded. 

'  Waiter,  my  bill,'  said  he  in  a  peremptory  tone. 

The  boy  brought  him  a  slip  of  paper,  on  which  was  writ 
ten  the  amount. 

He  paid  it  without  a  word ;  walked  across  the  room,  took 
down  his  hat,  put  it  on  his  head,  and  turning  to  Kornicker, 
said  in  a  tone  of  solemn  earnestness :  '  Young  man,  you  're 
in  a  bad  way,  a  very  bad  way.  Had  I  known  with  what 
people  you  were  in  the  habit  of  associating  before  I  sat 
down  at  that  table,  Ezra  Scrake's  legs  and  yours  would  never 
have  been  under  the  same  mahogany.  A  man  in  the  employ 
of  another,  and  know  nothing  of  him !  It 's  enormous  !  He 
might  be  a  murderer,  a  thief,  a  man-slaughterer,  a  Burker, 
an  arsoner,  or  any  thing  that  is  bad.  Young  man,  in  spite 


HARRY   HARSON.  225 

of  the  injury  you  Ve  done  me,  I  pity  you ;  nay,  I  forgive 
you.' 

Mr.  Kornicker  was  merely  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to 
suggest  to  him  that  his  company  had  not  only  been  unsought, 
but  actually  forced  upon  him,  and  even  under  his  solemn 
protest.  But  before  he  could  do  so,  Mr.  Scrake  was  in  the 
street.  On  ascertaining  that  he  was  out  of  the  hearing  of 
Mr.  Kornicker,  he  muttered  to  himself:  'It  was  no  go. 
Waited  for  him  two  hours ;  then  spent  an  hour  in  pumping 
a  dry  well.  Enoch  Grosket  has  sent  me  on  a  fool's  errand. 
Michael  Rust  knows  too  much  to  trust  that  addle-headed 
fool.' 

Having  given  vent  to  these  observations,  he  deliberately 
buttonec1  up  his  coat,  and  walked  off. 


10* 


226  HARRY    H ARSON. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

IN  a  dark  room  which  was  lighted  only  by  a  single  candle, 
which  flared  and  dripped  in  the  currents  of  air,  as  they  eddied 
and  whirled  through  the  room,  sat  Tim  Craig  and  his  com 
rade,  Bill  Jones.  They  were  sitting  on  two  wooden  benches 
in  front  of  a  fire,  which  they  from  time  to  time  nourished 
with  sticks  from  a  heap  of  wood  on  the  hearth.  The  fire 
kept  smouldering  and  smoking,  now  and  then  springing  up 
into  a  fitful  blaze,  which  threw  a  spectral  air  over  the  room, 
peopling  its  dim  recesses  with  fantastic  forms,  and  then  ex 
pired,  leaving  it  more  gloomy  than  ever.  The  appearance 
of  the  men,  their  subdued  voices  and  startled  looks,  showed 
that  at  that  particular  time  they  were  not  altogether  in  a 
frame  of  mind  to  resist  the  gloomy  influence  of  the  place. 
The  dark,  lonely  room,  with  its  dim  shadowy  cornel's  and 
gaping  seams,  through  which  the  wind  sighed  and  wailed, 
and  the  pattering  of  the  rain  as  it  swept  heavily  against  the 
side  of  the  house  and  on  the  roof,  all  tended  to  add  to  the 
melancholy  and  sombre  tone  of  their  feelings.  Bill  drew  his 
bench  to  the  fire,  looked  suspiciously  about  him,  and  then, 
as  if  half  ashamed  of  having  done  so,  said : 

'  It 's  a  h  - 11  of  a  night !  I  do  n't  know  how  it  is,  but 
I  'm  not  in  trim  to-night.  Blow  me,  if  the  sight  of  that 
old  fellow  do  n't  make  one's  blood  cold.  I  can't  get 
warm;  and  this  fire  keeps  sputtering  and  smoking,  as  if 
to  spite  one.' 

Tim  Craig,  to  whom  this  remark  was  addressed,  turned 
and  looked  him  steadily  in  the  face,  without  speaking ;  and 


77^1  RRY    II A  R  SON.  227 

then  his  eyes  wandered  about  the  room,  as  if  he  were  fearful 
of  being  watched  or  overheard  in  what  he  was  going  to  say. 

*  Bill,'  said  he  in  a  low  voice,  his  thin  lips  quivering ;  but 
whether  from  anger  or  any  other  emotion,  was  a  matter  of 

much  doubt ;  '  d d  if  I  know  which  way  to  leap  !    Enoch 

pulls   one  way  and  Rust  another.     Either  of  them  could 
send  us  to  kingdom  come.     Ugh  !  how  cold  it  is !     Some 
thing  comes  over  me  to-night  —  I  can't  tell  what.     I  do  n't 
half  like  this  job.    Bill,'  continued  he  after  a  pause,  drawing 
nearer  his  comrade  and  lowering  his  voice,  *  I  'm  haunted 
to-night.     You  know  that  fellow,  the  man  up  town,  the 

cartman '     He  hesitated,  and  leaned  his  mouth  close  to 

the  ear  of  the  other,  while  in  the  dim  light  his  face  seemed 
ghastly ;  '  the  —  the  man,  last  year ' 

Jones  looked  at  him  significantly;  and  then  drew  his 
finger  across  his  throat.  '  Do  you  mean  that  fellow  ? ' 

'  Yes,'  replied  Craig  in  a  husky  tone,  and  scarcely  able  to 
articulate,  for  the  choking  in  his  throat.  *  He 's  been  here 
to-night.  Three  times  I've  caught  him  looking  over  my 
shoulder !  God !  There  he  is  again  !  Light !  light !  light !' 
shouted  he,  springing  up;  'make  the  fire  burn,  I  say  — 
make  it  burn  !  Heap  on  wood  !  heap  it  on !  Do  any  thing — 
but  keep  HIM  off ! ' 

*  Why,  Tim,  you  seem  to  be  took  bad,'  exclaimed  his  com 
panion,  at  the  same  time  getting  on  his  knees,  and  setting 
assiduously  to  work  to  blow  the  fire.     '  Come,  this  is  worse 
than  ever.     We  Ve  got  to  work  to-night ;  and  it  won't  do 
to  go  into  your  fantastics.' 

He  paused  in  his  remarks  to  apply  his  breath  to  the  fire, 
and  with  such  success,  that  in  a  few  minutes  a  bright  blaze 
was  dancing  up  the  chimney,  lighting  the  whole  room,  and 
dispelling  at  once  that  shadowy  appearance  which  its  great 
size  and  dilapidated  state  had  tended  to  give  it. 


228  HARRY    H ARSON. 

*  There,  now ;  that 's  as  comfortable  a  fire  as  you  can  want ; 
and  arter  all,  what  you  was  just  talking  of  was  all  fancy,' 
said  he,  resuming  his  seat.     '  Dead  men  stay  where  you  put 
'em.' 

Craig  had  been  pacing  furiously  up  and  down  the  room, 
as  if  to  outwalk  some  demon  that  would  keep  at  his  side ; 
but  he  stopped  short,  and  going  up  to  his  comrade,  placed 
his  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  said :  '  Bill  Jones,  that 's  a  lie  ! 
Whoever  says  so,  lies  !  Dead  men  do  n't  stay  where  you  put 
'em.  I  Ve  had  that  man  walking  with  me  for  hours  to 
gether.  I  Ve  had  him  at  the  same  table  with  me,  when  I 
ate ;  I  Ve  had  him  in  bed  with  me  —  ay,  all  night  long ; 
and  to-night  he 's  been  here,  with  his  face  almost  touching 
mine.  Blast  him  !  if  I  could  but  get  him  by  the  throat,  I  'd 
throttle  him ! ' 

*  Come,  come,  Tim,  none  of  this,'  said  Jones,  with  more 
gentleness  than  might  have  been  expected  from  one  of  his 
rough  exterior.     '  I  'm  sorry  for  you  ;    you  must  feel  bad 
enough,  or  you  would  n't  go  on  so.      I  've  knowed  you  since 
we  were  boys  together ;  and  I  know  it 's  not  a  little  matter 
that  works  you  up  like  you  are  now.      Come,  sit  down.'    He 
led  him  to  a  seat,  and  kneeling  at  his  feet,  took  his  hand  in 
both  of  his.     'Do  n't  give  in  so,  my  old  feller.     Don't  you 
know,  when  we  were  boys,  how  we  all  looked  up  to  you ; 
and  although  I  could  have  doubled  you  up,  with  my  big 
limbs,  yet  you  always  had  the  mastery  over  me  ?     Ha !  ha ! 
Tim,  do  n't  you  remember  the  old  schoolmaster,  too  ?    Hallo  ! 
what  now  ?  ' 

Craig  leaned  his  head  upon  Jones's  shoulder,  and  sobbed 
aloud.  '  Do  n't  talk  of  those  days,  Bill ;  it  '11  drive  me  mad. 
Oh  !  if  I  was  a  boy  again !  But  no,  no ;  I  'm  a  fool,'  ex 
claimed  he,  springing  up,  apparently  swallowing  his  emotion 
at  once  fierce  gulp,  and  in  an  instant  becoming  as  hardened 


HARRY    H ARSON.  229 

as  ever.  'Am  I  crazy  to-night,  or  what  ails  me,  that  I  Ve 
become  as  white-livered  as  a  girl  ?  Where  's  the  grog  ?  Give 
us  a  sup ;  and  we  '11  see  what  's  to  be  done.' 

'  There,  now  you  talk  right,'  said  Jones,  putting  his  hand 
in  his  coat-pocket,  and  drawing  out  a  small  bottle,  cased  in 
leather ;  '  that  '11  wake  you  up.  And  now  to  business.  You 
have  n't  told  me  what 's  to  be  done,  and  who  you  '11  go  with, 
Grosket,  or  Rust.' 

*  Rust,'  said  Craig,  abruptly  ; '  he 's  our  man.  He  can  bleed ; 
Enoch  can't.    He  never  fails  in  what  he  wants  to  do  ;  Enoch 
does  :  but  they  are  both  devils  incarnate.     I  'd  rather  fight 
against  ten  other  men  than  either  of  them ;  but  rather  against 
Enoch  than  Mike  Rust.' 

'  Well,  what  is  it  ?  He  told  you  all  about  it.  I  could  n't 
hear  what  he  said.' 

*  He  's  been  on  the  prowl  for  two  days ;  God  knows  what 
he  's  after  ;  but  he  wants  us  to  break  into  a  house,  and  steal 
a  girl.' 

*  The  profligate  willain  !'  exclaimed  Mr.  Jones,  with  an  air 
of  great  horror.     *  I  '11  tell  his  father  of  him  ! ' 

1  It's  only  a  child.' 

*  Oh !  that  alters  the  case,'  said  Mr.  Jones.     '  Then  I  '11  tell 
his  wife.' 

*  It 's  nothing  of  that  sort,'  said  Tim,  peevishly.     *  I  can't 
joke  to-night.     I  told  him  how  Enoch  had  helped  some  one 
steal  some  children,  and  how  one  of  them  had  got  away, 
and  where  she  was.     We  are  to  go  k>  the  house,  get  the  girl 
at  all  hazards,  rob  the  house  if  we  choose,  and  bring  her  here. 
What  he  wants  of  her,  who  she  is,  is  more  than  I  know. 
4  You  aTe  to  get  her,  and  ask  no  questions  : '  that 's  what  he 
said.' 

4  Who 's  in  the  house  ? ' 

*  Only  an  old  man  and  a  woman.' 


230  HARRY    II ARSON. 

1  The  man  —  is  lie  used  up,  or  what  ? ' 

'  He 's  a  bull-dog,'  was  the  laconic  reply. 

'  We  '11  want  them,  then,'  said  Jones,  pointing  to  a  closet 
which  was  partly  open,  showing  several  pairs  of  pistols  on  a 
shelf.' 

'  I  suppose  so.  Bring  'em  out,  and  look  at  the  locks  ;  not 
the  flint-locks  —  it's  a  wet  night ;  get  the  others.  We  must 
have  no  trifling.' 

Jones  made  no  other  reply  than  to  take  out  a  pair  of  pis 
tols,  which  he  carried  to  the  light,  and  examined  their  locks. 
•  'Are  they  loaded  ? '  inquired  Craig. 

Jones  nodded  :  '  Two  bullets  in  each  !  Suppose  they  twig 
us  ?  —  are  we  to  fight  or  run  1 ' 

' '  You  had  better  die  than  fail.'  He  said  that,'  replied 
Craig  in  a  low  tone ;  *  and  when  I  saw  his  look,  I  thought  so 
too.  D  —  n  him  !  I  'm  afraid  of  him.  It  '11  be  no  baby- 
work  if  they  discover  us.' 

The  other  robber  made  no  reply,  but  continued  to  exa 
mine  the  pistols,  carefully  rubbing  the  barrels,  to  remove  any 
trace  of  rust,  and  working  the  hammers  backward  and  for 
ward  ;  after  which  he  put  two  fresh  caps  on  the  cones. 

'All  right !  I  'm  ready  as  soon  as  it 's  time.  When  do  you 
go?' 

'Not  till  an  hour  after  midnight.  That's  the  time  when 
folks  sleep  soundest.  You  could  cut  a  man's  throat  then 
without  waking  him.  Do  n't  let  the  fire  go  down,'  said  he, 
turning  an  apprehensive  eye  toward  the  fire-place.  '  It 's 
cold,  and  we  Ve  three  hours  to  be  here  yet.' 

Jones,  with  the  same  good-natured  alacrity  which  he  had 
before  displayed,  threw  several  sticks  on  the  fire,  and  then 
turning  to  his  comrade,  said  : 

'  Suppose  we  rattle  the  dice  till  midnight  ? ' 

Craig  shook  his  head. 


II A  R  R  Y    HA  It  SO  N.  231 

'  What  say  you  to  the  paste-board  ?' 

'  No  cards  for  me,'  replied  the  other,  seating  himself  and 
leaning  his  cheeks  between  his  hands,  with  his  elbows  on  his 
knees,  and  his  eyes  fastened  on  the  fire.  '  I  want  to  be  on 
the  move.  God  !  How  I  wish  it  was  time  !  This  cursed 
room  is  enough  to  suffocate  one.  Curse  me,  but  it  smells  of 
coffins  and  dead  men,  and  is  as  cold  as  a  church-vault.  It 
goes  to  a  fellow's  very  bones.' 

There  was  something  so  unusual  in  the  mood  of  his  com 
rade,  that  Jones  at  last  started  up  and  said  : 

'  Blast  me,  Tim,  but  you  must  stop  this.  You  're  making 
me  as  wild  and  frightened  as  yourself.  Talk  of  your  beaks, 
and  courts,  and  prisons,  and  bullets  and  pistols  as  much  as 
you  like  ;  but,  d  —  n  it,  leave  your  dead  men,  and  coffins, 
and  vaults,  and  all  them  'ere  to  themselves,  will  you  ?  Curse 
me  if  you  a'  n't  enough  to  make  a  sneak  of  any  man.  So 
just  stop,  will  you  ?  If  you  can't  talk  of  something  better, 
do  n't  talk  at  all.' 

Craig  took  him  at  his  word ;  and  drawing  his  bench  closer 
to  the  fire,  maintained  his  position,  without  moving  or  speak 
ing,  for  more  than  an  hour. 

Jones,  in  the  meanwhile,  for  want  of  employment,  again 
examined  the  pistols  ;  drew  out  the  loads,  and  reloaded  them  ; 
then  going  to  the  closet,  he  brought  out  two  very  dangerous- 
looking  knives,  and  after  trying  the  points  on  his  finger, 
proceeded  to  oil  them.  This  over,  he  betook  himself  te 
whistling,  at  the  same  time  keeping  time  to  his  music  by 
drumming  his  heel  heavily  on  the  floor.  This,  however, 
could  not  last  for  ever ;  and  finally,  wrapping  a  heavy  coat 
around  his  shoulders,  he  stretched  himself  at  full  length  in 
front  of  the  fire,  and  was  soon  sound  asleep. 

Not  so  his  companion.  In  silence,  without  stirring,  and 
scarcely  breathing,  yet  wide  awake,  with  ears  alive  to  every 


232  HARRY    HARSON. 

sound,  and  distorting  every  sigh  of  the  wind  into  the  voice 
of  a  human  being,  he  sat  with  white  lips  and  a  shaking  hand 
until  the  faint  chime  of  a  clock,  which  reached  him  even 
above  the  noise  of  the  storm,  told  him  that  the  hour  was 
come. 

*  Wake  up  ! '  said  he,  touching  Jones  with  his  foot.     '  It 's 
time  to  be  off.' 

Jones,  with  instinctive  quickness,  obeyed  the  call  by  spring 
ing  to  his  feet,  apparently  as  wide  awake  as  if  he  had  not 
closed  his  eyes  during  the  night. 

'All  right ! '  said  he,  looking  hastily  about  the  room.  '  Hey  ! 
but  what 's  all  this  noise  ? ' 

'  It 's  a  horrible  night ;  all  hell  seems  abroad,'  said  Craig. 
*  But  come  ;  get  ready,  and  let 's  be  off.' 

'  Will  we  want  any  of  them  ? '  asked  Jones,  pointing  to  an 
upper  shelf  in  the  closet,  on  which  were  lying  several  un 
couth-looking  instruments,  the  nature  of  which  was  best 
known  to  themselves. 

'  Take  the  small  crow ;  we  may  want  that,  but  nothing 
more.' 

*  The  bag  too  ? '  inquired  Bill. 

'  No  ;  it 's  a  girl  we  've  to  steal ;  d  —  n  it,  I  wish  it 
was  n't ! ' 

While  he  was  speaking,  he  had  thrust  his  arms  into  a 
shaggy  great-coat,  and  was  tying  a  thick  woollen  wrapper 
over  his  mouth,  so  that  the  last  remark  was  nearly  lost  in  it. 
He  then  put  on  an  oil-skin  cap,  not  unlike  what  is  called  by 
sailors  a  '  sou'-wester,'  and  stood  watching  the  proceedings  of 
his  comrade,  which  were  by  no  means  as  expeditious  as  his 
own  ;  for  that  gentleman  proceeded  very  leisurely  to  encase 
his  feet  in  a  pair  of  thick  woollen  stockings,  and  a  pair  of 
shoes  more  capable  of  resisting  the  wet  than  those  which  he 
then  wore.  After  this  he  put  on  an  oil-cloth  jacket  over  his 


HARRY   EARS  ON.  233 

other  one,  and,  surmounted  the  whole  by  a  coat  similai  to  that 
worn  by  Craig. 

'  One  would  suppose  you  was  a  baby,  from  your  tender 
ness  to  yourself,'  said  Craig,  impatiently.  '  You  a'  n't  iugar, 
are  you  ?  Do  you  expect  the  rain  to  melt  you  ?' 

'  I  'in  a  sweet  fellow,  I  know,'  replied  the  other,  care 
fully  buttoning  his  coat  to  the  chin.  '  I  may  be  sugar,  for 
all  I  know :  should  n't  be  surprised  if  I  was.  I  Ve  been  told 
so  afore  this  ;  let  me  tell  you  that,  my  old  feller.  You  a7  n't 
in  kidney  to-night.  Take  another  pull  at  little  Job,'  said  he, 
handing  him  the  bottle,  '  and  we  '11  be  off.' 

Whatever  Craig's  contempt  of  the  rain  might  be,  it  did 
not  seem  to  extend  to  other  liquids  ;  for  he  took  the  bottle, 
and  applying  it  to  his  lips,  did  not  remove  it  until  the  bot 
tom  of  it  was  not  a  little  inclined  toward  the  ceiling ;  per 
haps  its  elevation  might  even  have  increased,  had  not  Jones 
reminded  him  that,  it  being  late  at  night,  the  vessel  could  not 
be  replenished,  and  that  there  was  'a  small  child'  to  be 
helped  after  him,  who  hated  above  all  things  sucking  at  the 
neck  of  a  dry  bottle. 

Craig  permitted  the  bottle  to  be  taken  from  his  hand,  and 
stood  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  floor  in  deep  thought  ;  nor 
did  he  arouse  himself  until  Jones  took  him  by  the  arm, 
and  said : 

'  Come  on  ;  all 's  ready.' 

Craig  started  at  the  words.     *  The  pistols  and  the  glim  ? ' 

*  I  've  got  'em.' 

'And  the  crow-bar  ? ' 

'All  snug  here]  said  Jones,  touching  the  pocket  of  his 
great-coat. 

'  Good  !  Follow  me.'  Craig  strode  across  the  room,  and 
went  out. 

Tt  was  a  dreadful  night.  The  rain  spouted  furiously  from 
10* 


234  HARRY    H ARSON. 

the  water-conductors,  and  sped  boiling  and  foaming  through 
the  streets.  The  wind  too  caught  it  up  as  it  fell,  and  swept 
it  in  long  sheets  through  the  streets  ;  and  as  the  two  men 
battled  their  way  along,  it  seemed  actually  to  hiss  around 
them,  like  the  long  lash  of  a  whip.  The  tempest  had  a  rare 
frolic  that  night,  and  right  merrily  did  it  howl  over  the  house 
tops,  and  through  the  narrow  streets;  and  fast  and  furiously 
did  the  water  bubble  and  boil,  as  it  dashed  on  like  mad  to 
the  deep  river,  to  take  refuge  in  her  bosom  from  its  torment 
or,  the  hurricane. 

A  right  glorious  night  it  was  for  rapine  and  midnight 
murder.  The  house-dog  had  slunk  into  his  straw,  and  the 
watchman  was  dozing  away  under  some  shed,  or  in  some 
dark  door-way.  There  was  nothing  to  stand  in  the  way  of 
these  enterprising  men,  save  the  fierce  storm,  and  what  cared 
they  for  that  ?  It  was  the  very  night  for  them.  If  it  came 
to  blows,  or  if  a  life  were  to  be  taken,  the  death-cry  would 
be  lost  in  the  howling  of  the  wind  ;  it  was  the  night  of  all 
nights  for  them;  and  so  thought  Craig  and  his  comrade,  as 
they  toiled  along,  with  their  heads  bent  down  to  keep  the 
rain  out  of  their  faces. 

'  Is  it  far  ? '  at  last  inquired  Jones :  '  we  Ve  come  a  mile.' 

*  Half  a  mile  more,'  replied  Craig ;  and  that  was  all  that 
passed  between  them  until  they  stood  in  front  of  Harson's 
house. 

'  This  is  it,'  said  Craig. 

He  lifted  the  latch  of  the  gate  opening  into  the  door-yard, 
and  approached  the  house. 

*  Where  are  we  to  begin  ? '  inquired  Jones. 

Craig  pointed  to  a  small  window  on  a  level  with,  or  ra 
ther  sunk  somewhat  below,  the  surface  of  the  ground,  with 
a  kind  of  area  around  it.  ' There  ;  there  are  iron  gratings, 


HARRY    H ARSON.  235 

but  they  are  set  in  the  wood,  which  is  all  rotten.  Quick  ! 
try  them  with  the  crow-bar ;  they  '11  give  way.' 

Jones,  with  an  alacrity  and  adroitness  which  showed  a 
long  experience  in  such  matters,  after  feeling  his  way  to  the 
place,  and  passing  his  hand  over  the  bars  to  discover  their 
exact  situation,  inserted  his  crow-bar  between  the  stone-work 
and  the  wood,  and  at  the  very  first  application  forced  the 
whole  out.  A  wooden  shutter  which  opened  from  within, 
being  merely  secured  by  a  wooden  button,  gave  way  before 
a  strong  pressure  of  his  hand,  and  left  the  entrance  open. 

4  Go  in  quick !  —  do  n't  keep  a  fellow  in  the  rain  all  night,' 
said  Craig,  in  a  sharp  whisper.  *  It 's  only  three  feet  to  the 
floor.  Get  in,  will  you  ? ' 

'  Shut  up  !  Cuss  ye ! '  exclaimed  Jones,  savagely ;  '  let  me 
take  my  own  way.' 

As  he  spoke,  he  inserted  his  feet,  and  gradually  let  him 
self  down  until  he  touched  the  floor.  In  a  moment  Craig 
was  at  his  side,  and  closed  the  shutter. 

*  Now,  quick  !  a  light ! '  whispered  he.  In  another  minute 
the  dark  lantern  was  lighted,  and  Craig,  taking  it  up  and 
throwing  back  the  slide,  turned  it  carefully  around  the  place. 
It  was  a  cellar,  filled  with  empty  barrels  and  boxes ;  and 
seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  receptacle  for  rubbish  of  all  descrip 
tions.  At  one  end  was  a  door  leading  to  the  upper  part  of 
the  house.  It  was  partly  open.  Without  a  word,  Craig 
went  to  it  and  ascended  the  stairs,  which  were  shut  off  from 
the  kitchen  by  another  door. 

Craig  opened  this,  and  crossed  the  room  with  a  quick  yet 
stealthy  step,  but  with  the  air  of  one  perfectly  familiar  with 
the  precincts.  Passing  through  the  entry,  he  went  into 
Harson's  sitting-room;  thence  into  the  outer  room,  com 
municating  with  the  street. 

'  We  '11  open  the  street-door,  Bill,'  said  he,  '  in  case  we 


236  HARRY    HARSON. 

have  to  bolt  quick.  There,'  said  he,  as  he  .drew  back  two 
bolts,  and  turned  the  key,  *  do  n't  forget  the  road.  Leave  all 
the  doors  open.  That  '11  do.  We  '11  get  the  girl  first,  and 
then  we  '11  see  what 's  to  be  done.  First  door  at  the  head  of 
the  stairs.  Quiet,  quiet ;  there 's  a  dog  in  the  next  room.' 

Stealing  up  the  stairs,  they  opened  the  door,  and  the  full 
light  of  the  lamp  fell  in  the  child's  room.  They  could  hear 
her  low,  regular  breathing  as  she  slept.  Craig  handed  the 
light  to  his  companion. 

*  I  '11  take  her,'  whispered  he.     '  Bring  the  light  so  that  I 
can  see.     There,  that  will  do.'     He  bent  over  her.     As  he 
did  so,  he  accidentally  stirred  the  bed-clothes,  and  the  child 
opened  her  eyes ;  and  before  he  could  prevent  it,  a  single 
wild  cry  escaped  her,  as  she  caught  sight  of  the  savage 
faces  which  were  bending  over  her. 

*  Christ !  how  she  yelps ! '  exclaimed  Craig,  in  a  fierce 
whisper.    He  clapped  his  hand  over  her  mouth.    'ByG-d! 
there  goes  the  dog  too  !  we  must  be  off.     My  chicken,'  said 
he,  in  a  low  tone,  *  if  you  understand  plain  English,  you 
know  what  I  mean  when  I  say,  if  you  whisper  loud  enough 
to  wake  a  cat,  you'll  get  a  bullet  through  your  head.    Hist ! 

Bill,  was  that  a  door  creaking  1    I  can't  hear  for  the  d d 

dog  ! '     Both  stopped  and  listened. 

'  It  was  only  the  door  below,'  said  Jones.   *  Quick !  quick  ! ' 

Craig  caught  the  child  out  of  bed,  wrapped  a  blanket 
about  her  to  stifle  her  cries,  in  case  she  should  make  any, 
and  moved  to  the  door. 

'Turn  the  light  on  the  door;  I  can't  see.  There,  that 
will  do.  Now,  then,  it 's  open,  and  the  game 's  ours.' 

'•Not  quite ! '  said  a  stern  voice ;  and  the  next  instant 
Craig  received  a  blow  from  a  fist  which  sent  him  reeling 
back  into  the  room. 

4  Watch  !    watch  !    murder !    thieves ! '   bellowed   Harson 


HARRY    HARSON.  237 

from  without,  while,  from  the  din,  at  least  forty  pag-dogs 
seemed  to  be  barking  in  all  parts  of  the  entry. 

*  Shoot  him  !  shoot  him  down  ! '  shouted  Craig,  springing 
to  the  door.  '  By  G  -  d  !  the  door 's  shut,  and  he  's  holding 
it  from  the  outside ! '  exclaimed  he,  pulling  it  with  all  his 
force.  '  He 's  as  strong  as  a  bull.  Quick  !  shoot  through 
the  panel !  He  must  stand  behind  the  knob.  Fire  ! ' 

Instead  of  obeying  him,  Bill  Jones  seized  the  child. 
*  Hark  ye,  old  fellow,'  said  he ;  '  shut  up,  or  I  '11  dash  this 
girl's  brains  out.  If  I  do  n't,  d  —  n  me  ! ' 

This  appeal  was  heard,  and  operated  upon  Harson ;  but 
in  a  different  manner  from  what  they  expected,  for  he  re 
laxed  his  hold  of  the  door  so  suddenly,  that  Craig  fell  back 
ward  ;  and  bursting  into  the  room,  with  a  single  blow  he 
prostrated  the  burglar,  who  was  bending  over  the  child,  and 
dashed  the  light  to  the  ground.  His  advantage  was  only 
momentary ;  for  in  a  minute  Craig  flung  himself  upon  him. 
But  the  old  man's  blood  was  up.  In  his  young  days  he  had 
been  a  powerful  wrestler ;  and  even  now  the  robber  found 
him  no  easy  conquest,  for  he  said,  in  a  husky  tone  :  '  This 
won't  do,  Bill.  Drop  the  girl  and  come  here.  This  blasted 
old  fool  will  keep  us  all  night.' 

Instead  of  obeying  him,  Jones  stole  to  the  head  of  the 
stairs  and  listened.  In  an  instant  he  sprang  back. 

'  We  must  be  off,  Tim  !  Some  one  is  coming.  Quick ! 
Let  loose  the  man.' 

But  there  were  two  to  that  bargain  ;  for  Harson  had 
heard  the  words  as  well  as  the  robber,  and  he  held  him  with 
a  gripe  like  a  vice. 

'  Let  go  your  hold,  and  we  '11  be  off,'  said  Craig,  in  a  husky 
voice. 

*  Never !     You  shall  taste  what  you  are  so  ready  to  give  I 
said  Harson,  fiercely. 


238  HARRY    HARSON. 

'  Bill,  there 's  no  time  to  lose ! '  exclaimed  Craig,  in  a 
stern  tone.  "  Shoot  him,  and  have  done  with  it !  There, 
now  ;  I  '11  hold  him.' 

The  report  of  a  pistol  followed ;  but  as  it  did  so,  a  deep 
groan  came  from  Craig.  '  You  've  done  for  me,  Bill.  The 
old  fellow  dodged.  Run  !  run !  —  my  rope 's  out.' 

'  Can't  I  help  you,  Tim  ? '  exclaimed  Jones. 

*  No,  no ;  go  !     Get  off.     I  '11  not  blow  on  you.' 

Thus  adjured,  the  robber  paused  no  longer.  But  escape 
was  now  no  easy  matter ;  for  at  the  door  he  was  saluted  by 
a  loud  voice : 

"  Hallo !  Harry  ;  is  this  you  f 

'  No,  no,  a  thief !     Grab  him,  Frank ! ' 

The  next  instant  Jones  was  in  the  grip  of  a  powerful  man, 
but  he  was  a  giant  himself,  and  desperate.  He  flung  him 
self  with  all  his  force  upon  his  adversary,  and  both  went  to 
the  floor  together ;  Jones's  hand  on  the  other's  throat. 

There  is  something  fearful  in  the  grapple  of  a  desperate 
man,  even  when  feeble  in  frame ;  and  in  the  case  of  Jones, 
who  knew  that  every  thing  depended  on  his  efforts,  and 
whose  fierce  spirit  was  backed  by  muscles  of  iron,  the  con 
flict  was  one  of  such  fury  that  the  very  walls  of  the  old 
house  shook.  From  step  to  step,  from  the  landing  to  the 
hall,  they  fought ;  tugging  and  tearing  at  each  other  like 
two  dogs,  while  Harry  Harson  in  vain  hung  about  them ; 
the  darkness  and  the  rapidity  of  their  motions  preventing 
him  from  distinguishing  friend  from  foe. 

' By  G - d !  he 's  an  ox  for  strength,'  at  last  said  Frank  ; 
*  if  you  'd  do  any  thing,  Harry,  go  to  the  door  and  sing  out 
for  the  watch.  I  '11  hold  him.' 

It  might  be  that  in  order  to  utter  these  words  the  Doctor 
relaxed  his  grasp,  or  it  might  be  that  the  knowledge  of  the 
increased  risk  that  he  would  run  gave  additional  strength  to 


HARRY   HARSON.  239 

the  robber;  foi*  lie  made  a  single  desperate  effort,  tore  him 
self  from  the  iron  grasp  that  held  him  down,  rose  to  his 
knee,  and  striking  the  Doctor  a  blow  in  the  face  that  for  a 
moment  bewildered  him,  sprang  to  his  feet,  dashed  Harson 
from  the  door,  bounded  across  the  room  between  the  hall 
and  the  street-door,  and  darted  into  the  street  at  full  speed. 

'D —  n  me,  Harry,  he's  off!'  said  the  Doctor,  assum 
ing  a  sitting  posture  on  the  floor.  '  He  deserves  to  escape, 
for  he  fought  like  a  devil  for  it.  D  —  n  him,  he's  a 
brave  fellow  !  There 's  no  use  in  chasing  him,  I  suppose  ; 
you  and  I  a'  n't  cut  out  for  running.  If  that  last  crack 
had  hit  me  on  the  nose,  it  would  have  smashed  it.  Come, 
let 's  look  after  the  other  fellow  ;  perhaps  he 's  playing  'pos 
sum,  and  may  be  off.  If  you  do  n't  stop  the  barking  of  that 

d d  dog  of  yours,  I  '11  kill  him.'  Groping  their  way 

back  to  the  upper  floor,  from  which  they  caught  sight  of 
Spite,  rapidly  retreating  as  they  advanced,  they  found  the 
housekeeper  standing  in  the  room  which  they  had  just  left, 
arrayed  in  a  particularly  large  white  night-gown,  and  wear 
ing  a  particularly  high  cap,  with  a  particularly  fierce  white 
ribbon  on  the  top  of  it,  and  bearing  in  her  hand  a  dim  rush 
light. 

*  Quick  !  Martha ;  more  lights,  and  some  brandy ! '  said 
Harson,  pushing  past  her.  'Thank  God!  you"1  re  not  hurt, 
Annie !  Come,  Doctor,  this  poor  devil  is  human,'  said  he, 
pointing  to  Craig,  who  lay  on  the  floor  apparently  dead. 
'  Look  to  him  ;  he  breathes.  I  hear  him.' 

It  needed  no  second  appeal ;  for  before  he  had  finished, 
the  Doctor  had  turned  the  robber  over,  opened  his  vest,  and 
displayed  a  wound  in  his  breast.  He  thrust  his  finger  in  it, 
and  then  looking  up  at  Harry,  shook  his  head. 

4  He 's  a  case ;  must  go  ! ' 


240  HARRY    H ARSON. 

*  Poor  fellow !  God  only  knows  what  may  have  driven 
him  to  this.  Help  me  to  put  him  on  the  bed.' 

Taking  him  in  their  arms,  they  placed  him  on  the  bed  ; 
and  there  they  sat  and  watched  him  until  the  dawn  of  day. 
The  bright  sunshine  came  cheerily  in  at  the  window ;  the 
storm  had  passed,  and  the  sky  looked  clear  and  blue,  as  if  it 
had  never  been  ruffled.  And  at  that  hour,  and  in  that 
room,  with  the  golden  sunbeams  streaming  in,  lay  Tim 
Craig,  his  head  pressed  heavily  back  upon  the  pillow,  and 
bound  round  with  a  cloth  dabbled  in  blood.  His  face  was 
blackened  and  bruised,  and  his  shirt  and  the  bed-clothes 
stained  with  blood.  His  breath  was  short  and  heavy,  and 
at  times  gasping ;  his  mouth  half  open,  and  his  dull  eye 
fixed  with  a  heavy  leaden  stare  at  the  ceiling.  His  race  was 
nearly  run.  He  seemed  utterly  unconscious  of  the  presence 
of  any  one,  until  the  door  opened,  and  Harson,  who  had 
gone  out,  came  in. 

He  went  to  the  bed,  and  leaned  over  the  burglar.  As 
he  did  so,  his  shadow,  falling  across  the  man's  face,  attracted 
his  attention,  and  he  turned  his  heavy- eye,  and  asked,  in  a 
husky  voice : 

'  Will  I  go  ?     What  does  he  say  ? ' 

Harson  shook  his  head.  '  It 's  almost  over  with  you,  my 
poor  fellow ;  God  help  you  ! ' 

The  man  turned  his  head  away  and  looked  at  the  wall. 

'  Do  you  understand  me  ? '  said  Harson,  anxiously  bending 
over  him. 

'  Yes,  yes,'  replied  the  man  in  the  same  mumbling  tone  ; 
*  yes,  I  'm  come  for  ;  my  time 's  up.  I  was  a  strong  man 

yesterday  ;  and  now  !  now !  It 's  very  strange  !  very 

strange  ! '  He  muttered  a  few  inarticulate  words,  and  then 
resumed  his  old  position,  looking  at  the  wall,  no  sound  es- 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  241 

caping  him  except  the  low  panting  of  his  breath.  Suddenly 
he  said,  in  a  louder  tone  : 

'It's  all  very  strange  here?  He  pointed  to  his  head. 
1  Were  you  ever  at  sea  ?  Yes  ?  Well,  well  —  did  you  ever 
see  a  ship  toss  and  swing  to  and  fro  —  to  and  fro  —  to  and 
fro,  and  yet  keep  straight  on?  Well,  my  brain  reels  and 
swims  in  that  way.  There  are  dim,  strange  things ;  men, 
"beasts,  birds,  and  ghosts  hovering  about  me;  but  I  see 
straight  on,  and  they  are  on  all  sides  of  the  path ;  yet  I  see 
it  straight,  straight,  straight  and  plain.  I  'm  going  on  it. 
They  can't  make  me  swerve ;  but  it 's  awful  to  have  such 
company  about  me  on  such  a  journey.  Come  close  to  me ! ' 

Harson  drew  his  chair  close  to  the  bed  and  sat  down. 
*  I  Ve  sent  for  a  clergyman,'  said  he,  in  a  low  tone  ;  *  he  '11 
be  here  presently.  You  must  endeavor  to  chase  away  these 
thoughts  ;  they  are  only  dreams.' 

Craig's  thin  lips  contracted  into  a  smile  which  was  horri 
ble,  as,  without  moving  his  eyes  from  their  fixed  position,  he 
whispered  :  '  No,  no ;  he  won't  do  it  —  he  '11  not  do  it.  No ; 
I  won't  blow  on  you,  Bill.  Ha  !  how  hot  that  bullet  was ! 
Lift  me  up !  He 's  there  !  Yes,  lift  me  up,  so  that  I  may 
be  above  him  ;  up  !  up !  Ha !  ha  !  that  '11  do.  Bill,  do  you 
recollect  the  old  schoolmaster  ?  There !  Up  !  up  ! ' 

Harson  put  his  arm  under  him,  and  raised  him.  As  he 
did  so,  Craig's  head  fell  against  his  shoulder,  dabbling  it  with 
blood.  The  next  instant  he  stretched  himself  out  at  full 
length ;  gave  a  shudder ;  a  long  rattling  breath  followed ;  and 
he  fell  back  on  the  pillow  —  dead. 


242  HARRY    EAR  SON. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

IN  the  same  room  from  which  Craig  and  Jones  had  set 
out  on  their  ill-fated  errand,  and  at  the  hour  of  noon  on  the 
following  day,  the  latter  was  crouching  in  front  of  the  fire 
place,  which  had  been  so  bright  and  cheery  the  night  before, 
but  which  now  contained  nothing  except  ashes  and  a  few 
half-burned  stumps,  charred  and  blackened,  but  entirely 
extinguished.  Over  these  Jones  bent,  sometimes  shivering, 
holding  his  hands  to  them,  apparently  unconscious  that  they 
emitted  no  heat,  and  at  others  dabbling  in  the  ashes,  and 
muttering  to  himself.  But  a  few  hours  had  elapsed  since 
he  had  left  that  room  a  daring,  desperate  man ;  yet  in  that 
short  time  a  frightful  change  had  come  over  him.  Ilis  eyes 
were  bloodshot;  his  lips  swollen  and  bloody,  and  the  under 
one  deeply  gashed,  as  if  he  had  bitten  it  through ;  his 
cheeks  haggard  and  hollow,  his  hair  dishevelled,  his  dress 
torn,  and  almost  dragged  from  his  person.  But  it  was  -not 
in  the  outward  man  alone  that  this  alteration  had  taken  place. 
In  spirit,  as  well  as  in  frame,  he  was  crushed.  His  former  iron 
bearing  was  gone ;  there  was  no  energy,  no  strength  left. 
He  seemed  but  a  wreck,  shattered  and  beaten  down  —  down 
to  the  very  dust.  At  times  he  mumbled  to  himself,  and 
moaned  like  one  in  suffering.  Then  he  rose  and  paced  the 
room  with  long  strides,  dashing  his  hand  against  his  fore 
head,  and  uttering  execrations.  The  next  moment  he  stag 
gered  to  his  seat,  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  sobbed 
like  a  child. 

*  Tim,'  said  he,  in  a  low  broken  voice,  '  poor  old  Tim ;  I 
killed  you,  I  know  I  did ;  but  blast  ye !  I  loved  you,  Tim. 


HARRY    H ARSON.  243 

But  it 's  of  no  use,  now ;  you  're  dead,  and  can  never  know 
how  much  poor  Bill  Jones  cared  for  you.  No,  no ;  you 
never  can,  Tim.  We  were  boys  together,  and  have  always 
roughed  it  through  life  together  until  last  night ;  and  now 
I  'm  alone ; .  no  one  left  —  no  one,  no  one  ! ' 

In  the  very  frenzy  of  grief  that  succeeded  these  words, 
he  flung  himself  upon  the  floor,  dashing  his  head  and  hands 
against  it,  and  rolling  and  writhing  like  one  in  mortal  pain. 
This  outbreak  of  passion  was  followed  by  a  kind  of  stupor ; 
and  crawling  to  his  seat,  he  remained  there,  like  one  stunned 
and  bereft  of  strength.  Stolid,  scarcely  breathing,  and,  but 
for  the  twitching  of  his  fingers,  motionless  as  stone ;  with 
his  eyes  fixed  on  the  blank  wall,  he  sat  as  silent  as  one 
dead ;  but  with  a  heart  on  fire,  burning  with  a  remorse 
never  to  be  quenched ;  with  a  soul  hurrying  and  darting  to 
and  fro  in  its  mortal  tenement,  to  escape  the  lashings  of 
conscience.  Struggle  on  !  struggle  on  !  There  is  no  escape, 
until  that  strong  heart  is  eaten  away  by  a  disease  for  which 
there  is  no  cure ;  until  that  iron  frame,  worn  down  by 
suffering,  has  become  food  for  the  worm,  and  that  spirit  and 
its  persecutor  stand  before  their  final  Judge,  in  the  relations 
of  criminal  and  accuser. 

A  heavy  step  announced  that  some  one  was  ascending  the 
stairs.  Jones  moved  not.  A  loud  knock  at  the  door 
followed.  Still  he  did  not  stir.  The  door  was  then  flung 
open  in  no  very  gentle  manner,  for  it  struck  the  wall  behind 
it  with  a  noise  that  made  the  room  echo;  but  a  cannon 
might  have  been  fired  there,  and  Jones  would  not  have 
heard  it. 

The  person,however,  who  had  thus  unceremoniously  opened 
the  way  for  his  entrance,  seemed  perfectly  indifferent  whether 
his  proceedings  were  agreeable  or  otherwise.  His  first  move 
ment  on  entering  the  room  was  to  shut  the  door  after  him 


244  HARRY   H ARSON, 

and  lock  it ;  his  next  was  to  look  about  it  to  see  whether  it 
contained  any  other  person  than  Jones.  Having  satisfied 
himself  on  that  score,  he  walked  rapidly  up  to  him  and 
tapped  him  on  the  shoulder. 

Jones  looked  listlessly  up  at  him,  and  then  turning  away, 
dabbled  in  the  ashes,  without  uttering  a  word. 

'  Hallo !  Bill  Jones,'  said  the  stranger,  after  looking  at  him 
a  moment  or  two  in  evident  surprise,  '  what  ails  you  ? ' 

The  man  made  no  reply. 

'  So  you  are  sulky  ! '  said  the  other.  '  Well,  follow  your 
own  humor  ;  but  answer  me  one  question :  where 's  Craig  ? ' 

Jones  shuddered  ;  and  his  hand  shook  violently.  Rising 
up,  half  tottering,  he  turned  and  stood  face  to  face  with  his 
visitor. 

*  Good-day  to  ye,  Mr.  Grosket,'  said  he,  with  a  ghastly 
smile,  and  extending  his  hand  to  him.     '  Good-day  to  ye. 
It's  a  bright  day,  on  the  heels  of  such  a  night  as  the 
last  was.' 

*  Good  God !  what  ails  you,  man  ? '   exclaimed  Grosket, 
recoiling  before  the  wild  figure  which  confronted  him ;  and 
then  taking  his  hand,  he  said :  *  Your  hand  is  hot  as  fire, 
your  eyes  bloodshot,   and  your  face  covered  with   blood. 
What  have  you  been  at  ?     What  ails  you  1 ' 

Jones  passed  his  hand  feebly  across  his  forehead,  and  then 
replied :  *  I  'm  sick  at  heart ! ' 

He  turned  from  Grosket,  and  again  crouched  upon  the 
hearth,  mumbling  over  his  last  words,  *  Sick  at  heart !  sick 
at  heart ! '  —  nor  did  he  appear  to  recollect  Grosket's 
question  respecting  Craig.  If  he  did,  he  did  not  answer  it, 
but,  with  his  arms  locked  over  his  knees,  he  rocked  to  and 
fro,  like  one  in  great  pain. 

'Are  you  ill,  man,  or  are  you  drunk  ? '  demanded  Grosket, 
pressing  heavily  on  his  shoulder.  *  Speak  out,  I  say :  what 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  245 

ails  you?  If  you  don't  find  your  tongue,  I'll  find  it  for 
you.' 

Jones,  thus  addressed,  made  an  effort  to  rally,  and  par 
tially  succeeded ;  for  after  a  moment  he  suddenly  rose  up 
erect,  and  in  a  clear,  bold  voice,  replied : 

'I'm  not  drunk,  Mr.  Grosket,  but  I  am  ill;  God  knows 
what 's  the  matter  with  me.  Look  at  me ! '  he  continued, 
stepping  to  where  the  light  was  strongest ;  '  Look  at  me 
well.  Would  n't  you  think  I  'd  been  on  my  back  for 
months  ? ' 

*  You  look  ill  enough,'  was  the  blunt  reply. 

*  Well,  then,  what  do  you  want  ? '  demanded  Jones,  in  a 
peevish  tone ;    '  why  do  you  trouble  me  ?     I  can't  bear  it. 
Go  away ;  go  away.' 

'  I  will,  when  you  've  answered  my  question.  Where 's 
Craig  ? ' 

'I  don't  know.  He  was  here  last  night;  but  he  went 
out,  and  has  n't  been  here  since.' 

'Where  did  he  go?' 

Jones  shook  his  head  :  '  He  did  n't  say.' 

'Was  he  alone?' 

'No,'  replied  the  other,  evidently  wincing  under  these 
questions ;  '  No ;  there  was  a  man  with  him.  That 's  all  I 
know  about  either  of  them.  There,  there ;  get  through  with 
your  questions.  They  turn  my  head,'  said  he,  in  an  irritable 
tone. 

'  Why  did  he  take  a  stranger  ? '  demanded  Grosket,  with 
out  paying  the  least  attention  to  his  manner.  '  You  forget 
that  I  know  you  and  he  generally  hunt  in  couples.' 

It  might  have  been  the  cold  of  the  room  striking  through 
(to  his  very  bones  that  had  so  powerful  an  effect  on  Jones* 
but  he  shook  from  head  to  foot,  as  he  answered  : 

'  Look  at  me  !     God  !  would  you  have  a  man  out  in  such 


246  HARRY    H ARSON. 

a  night  as  that  was,  when  he 's  almost  ready  for  his  winding- 
sheet!1 

Grosket's  only  reply  was  to  ask  another  question. 

*  What  was  the  name  of  the  man  who  went  with  him  ? ' 

*  I  do  n't  know.' 

'  What  kind  of  a  man  was  he  ? '  asked  Grosket. 
'A  man  of  about  my  size,'  replied  Jones  sullenly. 

*  What  did  they  go  to  do  ?' 

Jones  hesitated,  as  if  in  doubt  what  answer  to  make,  and 
then,  as  if  adopting  an  open  course,  he  said :  *  I've  know'd 
you  a  good  while,  Mr.  Grosket,  and  you  won't  blab,  if  I  tell 
you  what  I  suspect,  will  ye  ?  It 's  only  guess-work,  after  all. 
Promise  me  that ;  I  know  your  word  is  good.' 

Grosket  paused  a  moment  before  he  made  the  promise ; 
and  then  said :  '  Well,  I  '11  keep  what  you  tell  me  to  myself. 
Now  then.' 

1  It  was  a  house-breaking  business,'  said  Jones,  sinking  his 
voice.  *  They  took  pistols  with  them  ;  and  I  heard  Tim  tell 
the  other  one  to  take  the  crow-bar  and  the  glirn.  That 's  all 
I  know.  I  was  too  much  down  to  listen.  There ;  go  away 
now.  I've  talked  till  my  head  is  almost  split.  Talking 
drives  me  mad.  Go  away.' 

Grosket  stood  perfectly  still,  in  deep  thought.  The  story 
might  be  true ;  for  the  city  was  ringing  with  the  news  of 
the  burglary,  and  of  the  death  of  one  of  the  burglars  by 
the  hands  of  his  comrade.  It  was  rumored,  too,  that  the 
dead  man  had  been  identified  by  some  of  the  officers  of 
the  police,  and  that  his  name  was  Craig.  It  was  this,  taken 
in  connection  with  the  facts  that  the  attempt  had  been 
made  on  Harson's  house,  that  an  effort  had  been  made  to 
carry  off  the  child  who  lived  with  him,  and  of  its  being  known 
to  Grosket  that  Rust  had  often  employed  these  two  men  in 
matters  requiring  great  energy  and  few  scruples,  that  had 


HARRY    HA  R  SON.  247 

induced  him  thus  early  to  visit  their  haunt,  to  ascertain  tho 
truth  of  nis  suspicions,  and  to  endeavor,  if  possible,  to  ferret 
out  the  plans  of  their  employer.  The  replies  of  Jones,  short 
and  abrupt  as  they  were,  convinced  him  that  his  suspicions 
respecting  Craig  were  correct;  but  who  could  the  other 
man  be  ? 

Engrossed  with  his  own  thoughts,  he  commenced  walking 
up  and  down  the  room.  At  last  he  stopped  at  its  farthest 
end. 

Jones,  in  the  meantime,  seated  himself;  and  leaning  his 
elbows  on  his  knees,  hid  his  face  in  his  hand.  He  was  dis 
turbed,  however,  by  feeling  himself  shaken  roughly  by  the 
shoulder.  '  What  you've  just  been  telling  me  is  a  lie ! '  said 
Grosket  sternly.  *  You  should  know  me  well  enough  not  to 
run  the  risk  of  trifling  with  me.  I  want  the  truth,  and  no 
thing  else.  Where  were  you  last  night  ? ' 

Jones  looked  up  at  him,  and  then  answered  in  a  sullen 
tone :  '  I  've  told  you  once ;  I  was  here.' 

Grosket  went  to  a  dark  corner  of  the  room  and  brought 
back  a  great-coat,  completely  saturated  with  water.  '  This 
room  scarcely  leaks  enough  to  do  that,'  said  he,  throwing  it 
on  the  floor  in  front  of  Jones.  'Ha!  what's  that  in  the 
pocket  ? ' 

He  thrust  in  his  hand  and  drew  out  a  pistol.  The  ham 
mer  was  down,  the  cap  exploded,  and  the  inside  of  the  muz 
zle  blackened  by  burnt  powder. 

'Fired  off!'  said  he.  'You  told  the  truth.  The  man 
who  went  with  Craig  did  look  like  you.  I  know  the  rest. 
Tim  Craig  is  dead,  and  you  shot  him.' 

An  expression  of  strange  meaning  crossed  the  face  of  the 
burglar  as  he  returned  the  steady  look  of  his  visitor  without 
making  any  reply.  But  Grosket  had  not  yet  finished  with 
him ;  for  he  said  in  a  low,  savage  tone :  '  Now  mark  me  well. 


248  HARRY    HARSON. 

If  you  lie  in  what  you  tell  me,  I  '11  hang  you.    Who  em 
ployed  you  to  do  this  job  ? ' 

Jones  eyed  him  for  a  moment,  and  then  turned  away  im 
patiently  and  said :  '  I  do  n't  know  what  you  're  talking  about. 
Do  n't  worry  me.  I  'm  sick  and  half  crazy.  Get  away,  will 
ye!' 

'•This  to  me !  to  me  ! '  exclaimed  the  other,  stepping  back, 
his  eyes  flashing  fire ;  '  you  forget  yourself.' 

Jones  rose  up,  his  red  hair  hanging  like  ropes  about  his 
face,  and  his  bloodshot  eyes  and  disfigured  features  giving 
him  the  look  rather  of  a  wild  beast  than  of  a  man.  Shak 
ing  his  finger  at  Grosket,  he  said :  *  Keep  away  from  me 
to-day,  I  say.  There 's  an  evil  spell  over  me.  Come  to-mor 
row,  but  do  n't  push  me  to-day,  or  God  knows  what  you 
may  drive  me  to  do.  There,  there  —  go.' 

Still  Grosket  stirred  not,  but  with  a  curling  lip  and  an  eye 
as  bright  as  his  own,  and  voice  so  fearfully  quiet  and  yet 
stern  that  at  another  time  it  might  have  quelled  even  the 
strong  spirit  of  the  robber,  he  said  :  '  Enoch  Grosket  never 
goes  until  his  object  is  attained.' 

*  Then  you  won't  go  ? '  demanded  Jones. 

'No!' 

Jones  made  a  hasty  step  toward  him ;  but  whatever  may 
have  been  his  purpose  —  and  from  the  expression  of  his  face, 
there  was  little  doubt  but  that  it  was  a  hostile  one  —  he  was 
diverted  from  it  by  hearing  a  hand  on  the  latch  of  the  door, 
and  a  voice  from  without  demanding  admittance. 

4  It  is  Rust,'  exclaimed  Grosket,  in  a  sharp  whisper.  He 
touched  the  burglar  on  the  shoulder,  and  said  in  the  same 
tone,  '  I  'm  going  in  there.1  He  pointed  to  a  closet  in  a  dark 
part  of  the  room,  nearly  concealed  by  the  wainscoting.  '  Let 
him  in,  and  betray  me  if  you  dare  ! ' 

'You   seem   to   know  our  holes  well,'   muttered  Jones. 


HARRY   HARSON.  249 

'You've  been  here  afore.'  Grosket  made  no  reply,  but 
hurried  across  the  room  and  secreted  himself  in  the  closet, 
which  evidently  had  been  constructed  as  a  place  of  conceal 
ment,  either  for  the  tenants  of  the  room  themselves,  or  for 
whatever  else  it  might  not  suit  their  fancy  to  have' too  closely 
examined. 

Jones  stared  after  him,  apparently  forgetting  the  appli 
cant  for  admission,  until  a  renewed  and  very  violent  knock 
ing  recalled  his  attention  to  it.  He  then  went  to  the  door, 
drew  back  the  bolt,  and  walked  to  his  seat,  without  even 
glancing  to  see  who  came  in,  or  who  the  person  was  who 
followed  so  closely  at  his  heels.  Nor  did  he  look  around 
until  he  felt  his  arm  roughly  grasped,  and  a  sharp,  stern 
voice  hissing  in  his  ear : 

'  So,  so !  a  fine  night's  work  you  've  made  of  it.  Tim 
Craig  is  dead,  and  the  whole  city  is  already  ringing  with  the 
news  ;  and  yow,  you  're  a  murderer ! ' 

Jones  started  from  his  seat  with  the  sudden  spasmodic 
bound  of  one  who  has  received  a  mortal  thrust.  Ho  stared 
wildly  at  the  sharp  thin  face  which  had  almost  touched  his, 
and  then  sat  down  and  said : 

'  Do  n't  talk  to  me  so,  Mr.  Rust ;  I  can't  bear  it.' 

'  Ho,  ho !  your  conscience  is  tender,  is  it  ?  It  has  a  raw 
spot  that  won't  bear  handling,  has  it  ?  We  '11  see  to  that. 
But  to  business,'  said  he,  his  face  white  with  rage ;  his  black 
eyes  blazing,  and  his  voice  losing  its  smoothness,  and  quiv 
ering  as  he  spoke. 

'  I  Ve  come  here  to  fulfil  my  agreement ;  you  were  to  get 
that  child  for  me  to-day.  I  Ve  come  for  her ;  where  is  she  ? ' 

Jones  looked  at  him  with  an  expression  of  impatience 
mingled  with  contempt,  but  made  him  no  answer. 

4  Tim  Craig  was  to  have  gone  to  that  house ;  he  was  to 
have  carried  her  off;  he  was  to  have  had  her  here,  here, 
11 


250  HARRY    HARSON. 

HERE  ! '  said  he,  in  the  same  fierce  tone.    *  Why  has  n't  he 
done  it?' 

4  Because  he 's  dead,'  said  J  ones  savagely. 

*  I  'm  glad  of  it !  I  'm  glad  of  it ! '  exclaimed  Rust.     « He 
deserved  it.     The  coward !     Let  him  die.' 

'  Tim  Craig  was  no  coward,'  replied  Jones,  in  a  tone 
which,  had  Rust  been  less  excited,  would  have  warned  him 
to  desist. 

'  Ha ! '  exclaimed  Rust,  scanning  him  from  head  to  foot, 
as  if  surprised  at  his  daring  to  contradict  him,  '  would  you 
gainsay  me  i ' 

Jones  returned  his  look  without  flinching,  his  teeth  firmly 
set  and  grating  together.  At  last  he  said : 

'  I  do  gainsay  you ;  and  I  do  say,  whoever  calls  Tim  Craig 
a  coward,  lies ! ' 

'•This,  and  from  you!"1  exclaimed  Rust,  shaking  his  thin 
finger  in  his  very  face ;  *  this  from  you  ;  you,  a  housebreaker, 
a  thief,  and  last  night  the  murderer  of  your  comrade.  Ho  ! 
ho !  it  makes  me  laugh !  Fool !  How  many  lives  have 
you?  One  word  of  mine  could  hang  you.' 

1  You  'II  never  hang  me1  replied  Jones,  in  the  same  low, 
savage  tone.  *  I  wish  you  had,  before  that  cursed  job  of 
yours  made  me  put  a  bullet  in  poor  Tim.  I  wish  you  had ; 
but  it  is  too  late.  You  won't  now.1 

Words  cannot  describe  the  fury  of  Michael  Rust  at  seeing 
himself  thus  bearded  by  one  whom  he  had  been  used  to  see 
truckle  to  him,  whom  he  considered  the  mere  tool  of  Craig, 
and  whom  he  had  never  thought  it  worth  while  even  to  con 
sult  in  their  previous  interviews. 

*  Won't  I  ?  won't  I  ?    Look  to  yourself,'  muttered  he,  shak 
ing  his  finger  at  him  with  a  slow,  cautioning  gesture  :  '  Look 
to  yourself.' 

*  You  're  right,  I  will ;  I  say  I  will1  exclaimed  Jones,  con- 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  251 

fronting  him.  '  I  say  I  will ;  and  now  I  do ! '  He  grasped 
him  by  the  throat  and  shook  him  as  if  he  had  been  a  child. 

'  I  might  as  well  kill  him  at  once,'  muttered  he,  without 
heeding  the  struggles  of  Rust.  '  It 's  him  or  me.  I  '11  do  it.' 

Coming  to  this  fatal  conclusion,  he  flung  Rust  on  the 
floor  and  leaped  upon  him.  At  this  moment,  however,  the 
door  of  the  closet  was  thrown  open,  and  Grosket,  whom  he 
had  entirely  forgotten,  sprang  suddenly  out : 

'  Come,  come,  this  won't  do ! '  said  he ;  '  no  murder ! ' 

Jones  made  no  effort  to  resist  the  jerk  at  his  arm  with 
which  Grosket  accompanied  his  words,  but  quietly  rose,  and 
said: 

4  Well,  he  drove  me  to  it.  He  may  thank  you  for  his 
life,  not  me? 

Relieved  from  his  antagonist,  Rust  recovered  his  feet,  and 
turning  to  Grosket,  said,  in  a  sneering  tone  : 

'  Michael  Rust  thanks  Enoch  for  having  used  his  influence 
with  his  friend  to  prevent  the  commission  of  a  crime  which 
might  have  made  both  Enoch  and  his  crony  familiar  with  a 
gallows.  A  select  circle  of  acquaintance  friend  Enoch  has.' 

Grosket  quietly  pointed  to  the  closet  and  said  : 

'  You  forget  that  I  have  been  there  ever  since  you  came  in 
the  room  ;  and  have  overheard  every  thing  that  passed  be 
tween  you  and  my  friend.' 

Rust  bit  his  lip. 

'  Do  n't  let  it  annoy  you,'  continued  he,  *  for  the  most  of 
what  I  heard  I  knew  before.  I  have  had  my  eye  on  you 
from  the  time  we  parted.  With  all  your  benevolent  schemes 
respecting  myself  I  am  perfectly  familiar.  The  debt  which 
you  bought  up  to  arrest  me  on  ;  your  attempt  to  have  me 
indicted  on  a  false  charge  of  felony ;  the  quiet  hint  dropped 
in  another  quarter,  that  if  I  should  be  found  with  my  throat 
cut  or  a  bullet  in  my  head,  you  would  n't  break  your  heart ; 


252  HARRY    H ARSON. 

I  know  them  all;  but  I  did  not  avail  myself  of  the  law. 
Shall  I  tell  you  why,  Michael  Bust  ?  Because  I  had  a  re 
venge  sweeter  than  the  law  could  give.' 

'  Friend  Enoch  is  welcome  to  it  when  he  gets  it,'  replied 
Rust,  in  a  soft  tone.  *  But  the  day  when  it  will  come  is  far 
off.' 

'  The  day  is  at  hand,'  replied  Grosket.  '  It  is  here  :  it  is 
now.  Not  for  a  mine  of  gold  would  I  forego  what  I  now 
know ;  not  for  any  thing  that  is  dear  in  the  world's  eyes 
would  I  spare  you  one  pang  that  I  can  now  inflict.' 

Rust  smiled  incredulously,  but  made  no  reply. 

'  Your  schemes  are  frustrated,'  continued  Grosket.  '  The 
children  are  both  found ;  their  parentage  known ;  your 
name  blasted.  The  brother  who  fostered  you  and  loaded 
you  with  kindness  will  have  his  eyes  opened  to  your  true 
character ;  and  you  will  be  a  felon,  amenable  to  the  law, 
whenever  any  man  shall  think  fit  to  call  it  down  upon  your 
head.  But  this  is  nothing 'to  what  is  in  reserve  for  you.' 

'  Well,'  said  Rust,  with  the  same  quiet  smile  :  '  please  to 
enumerate  what  other  little  kindnesses  you  have  in  store 
for  me.' 

'  I  will,'  replied  Grosket.  '/  was  once  a  happy  man.  I 
had  a  wife  and  daughter,  whom  I  loved.  My  wife  is  dead ; 
what  became  of  my  child  ?  I  say,'  exclaimed  he  bitterly, 
*  what  became  of  my  child  ? ' 

4  Young  women  will  forget  themselves  sometimes,'  said 
Rust,  his  thin  lip  curling.  '  She  became  a  harlot  —  only  a 
harlot.' 

Grosket  grew  pale,  and  his  voice  became  less  clear,  as  he 
answered : 

*  You  're  right  —  you  're  right !  why  shrink  from  the 
word  ?  It 's  a  harsh  one ;  but  it 's  God's  truth ;  she  did  — 
and  she  died.' 


HA  R R  Y    HA  RSON.  253 

1  That 's  frank,'  said  Rust,  '  quite  frank.  I  am  a  straight 
forward  man,  and  always  speak  the  truth.  I  'm  glad  to  see 
that  friend  Enoch  can  bear  it  like  a  Christian.' 

A  loud,  taunting  laugh  broke  from  Grosket ;  and  then  he 
said : 

'Thus  much  for  me;  now  for  yourself,  Michael  Rust. 
You  once  had  a  wife.' 

Rust's  calm  sneer  disappeared  in  an  instant,  and  he  seemed 
absolutely  to  wither  before  the  keen  flashing  eye  which  was 
fixed  steadfastly  on  his. 

'  She  lived  with  you  two  years ;  and  then  she  became  — 
shall  I  tell  you  what  ? '  « 

Rust's  lips  moved,  but  no  sound  came  from  them.  Gros 
ket  bent  his  lips  to  his  ear,  and  whispered  in  it.  Rust  neither 
moved  nor  spoke.  He  seemed  paralyzed. 

'  But  she  died,'  continued  Grosket,  *  and  she  left  a  child  — 
a  daughter ;  mine  was  a  daughter  too.' 

Rust  started  from  a  state  of  actual  torpor ;  every  energy 
every  faculty,  every  feeling  leaping  into  life. 

'  That  daughter  is  now  alive,'  continued  Grosket,  speaking 
slowly,  that  every  word  might  tell  with  tenfold  force.  '  That 
daughter  now  is  —  what  you  drove  my  child  to  be  —  a 
harlot.' 

*  It 's  false  as  hell ! '  shouted  Rust,  in  a  tone  that  made 
the  room  ring.     '  It 's  false  ! ' 

*  It 's  true.     I  can  prove  it ;  prove  it,  clear  as  the  noon 
day,'  returned  Grosket,  with  a  loud,  exulting  laugh. 

'  Oh !  Enoch !  oh,  Enoch ! '  said  Rust,  in  a  broken,  sup 
plicating  tone,  *  tell  me  that  it 's  false,  and  I  '11  bless  you ! 
Crush  me,  blight  me,  do  what  you  will,  only  tell  me  that  my 
own  loved  child  is  pure  from  spot  or  stain !  Tell  me  so,  I 
beseech  you ;  /,  Michael  Rust,  who  never  begged  a  boon 
before  —  /  beseech  you.' 


254  HARRY    EAR  8  ON. 

He  fell  on  his  knees  in  front  of  Grosket,  and  clasping  his 
hands  together,  raised  them  toward  him. 

'I  cannot,'  replied  Grosket,  coldly,  'for  it's  as  true  as 
that  there  is  a  heaven  above  us ! ' 

Rust  made  an  effort  to  speak;  his  fingers  worked  con 
vulsively,  and  he  fell  prostrate  on  the  floor. 


HARRY    11 A  R  £  0  .V.  255 


CHAPTER     XXII. 

IT  was  not  the  failure  of  his  plans,  nor  the  dread  of  de 
tection,  which  broke  Rust  down.  He  had  been  prepared  for 
that,  and  had  nerved  himself  to  meet  it ;  but  it  was  a  blow 
coming  from  a  quarter  where  he  had  not  dreamed  of  harm, 
and  wounding  him  where  alone  he  could  feel  a  pang,  that 
crushed  him.  There  was  something  so  abject  in  the  prostra 
tion  of  that  iron-willed  man,  who  had  often  endured  what 
would  have  wrung  the  very  souls  of  other  men,  without  ex 
hibiting  any  other  feeling  than  contempt,  that  for  a  moment 
awed  even  the  hard  man  who  had  struck  the  blow.  In  pro 
portion  as  Rust's  control  over  his  emotions  had  been  great, 
so  now  the  reaction  was  terrible.  He  seemed  paralyzed  in 
body  and  mind.  No  cry  escaped  him,  but  his  breath  rattled 
as  he  drew  it ;  his  long  hair  hung  loosely  over  his  face  and 
upon  the  floor ;  his  eyes  were  closed ;  his  features  livid 
and  distorted ;  and  but  for  his  struggling  breath,  and  the 
spasmodic  jerking  of  his  ringers,  he  seemed  dead. 

'  Lift  him  up,  Bill,'  said  Grosket,  in  a  subdued  tone.  '  It 's 
been  too  much  for  him.  Who  'd  have  thought  he  had  a 
heart  ? ' 

Jones  smiled  grimly,  as  he  said :  *  I  'm  glad  you  did  it, 
Mr.  Grosket.  It  was  better  than  murdering  him.  He  was  n't 
afeard  of  dying.  Is  it  a  fit  he 's  got  ? ' 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  placed  his  arms  under  him 
and  raised  him  up.  Rust  lay  heavily  against  him,  his  head 
falling  back,  and  his  arms  dangling  at  his  side.  They  car 
ried  him  to  the  bench,  and  placed  him  on  it,  Grosket  stand 
ing  behind  him  and  supporting  his  back. 


256  HARRY    H ARSON. 

*  I  guess  he 's  done  for,'  said  Jones,  pushing  the  hair  from 
his  face.  '  Pity  it  was  n't  three  days  ago  —  that 's  all.' 

'Get  some  water  or  brandy,'  said  Grosket;  'I  suppose  we 
may  as  well  bring  him  to.  It  would  be  an  ugly  business  if 
he  should  die  on  our  hands.' 

Jones  stooped  down,  and  picking  up  his  great-coat,  com 
menced  fumbling  in  his  pocket,  and  drew  out  the  bottle  from 
which  he  and  Craig  had  drunk,  as  they  were  starting  on  their 
expedition  the  previous  night.  He  held  it  up  and  looked  at 
it,  then  muttered  :  '  It 's  no  use ;  it 's  no  use.' 

'  What  are  you  talking  about  there  ? '  demanded  Grosket 
impatiently  ;  '  is  it  empty  ? ' 

Jones  shook  it. 

4  No  ;  there 's  a  drop  or  two  in  it.  D  —  n  him  !  I  do  n't 
like  his  drinking  out  of  this  bottle,  I  do  n't ;  I  use  it  myself; 
and  blow  me,  if  I  do  n't  think  his  mouth  'ud  p'ison  it! ' 

Grosket  cut  his  scruples  short  by  taking  the  bottle  from 
him,  uncorking  it,  and  pouring  its  contents  into  Rust's 
mouth. 

'  It's  a  waste,'  muttered  Jones",  eyeing  his  proceedings  with 
a  very  dissatisfied  look.  *  I  begrudged  it  to  poor  Tim  ;  and 
cuss  him,  it 's  going  down  his  gullet !  I  hope  it  '11  choke 
him.' 

Grosket  paid  no  attention  to  him,  but  supported  Rust,  oc 
casionally  shaking  him,  by  way  of  restoring  his  consciousness. 
Either  the  liquor  or  the  shaking  had  an  effect ;  for  the  deadly 
paleness  gradually  disappeared  from  his  face  ;  his  breath 
grew  less  short ;  and  finally  he  sat  up  and  looked  about  him. 
His  eye  was  wandering  and  vacant,  and  sad  and  heart-broken 
indeed  was  his  tone. 

'  My  own  dear  child  ! '  said  he,  in  a  voice  so  mild  and  win 
ning,  and  so  teeming  with  fondness,  that  none  would  have 
recognized  it  as  Rust's.  '  I  Ve  had  a  strange  dream,  my 


HARRY   HARSON.  257 

poor  little  Mary,  about  you  —  you,  whom  I  have  garnered 
up  in  my  heart  of  hearts.' 

His  voice  sank  until  his  words  were  unintelligible,  and 
then  he  laughed  feebly,  and  passed  his  hand  backward  and 
forward  in  the  air,  as  if  caressing  the  head  of  a  child.  '  Your 
eyes  are  very  bright,  my  little  girl,  but  they  beam  with  happi 
ness  ;  and  so  they  shall,  always.  So  they  shall  —  so  they 
shall.  Kiss  me,  my  own  darling  ! '  He  extended  his  arms 
and  drew  them  toward  him,  as  if  they  enfolded  the  child, 
and  then  bending  down  his  cheek,  rocked  to  and  fro,  and 
sang  a  song,  such  as  is  used  in  lulling  an  infant  to  sleep. 

*  My  God !  He  's  clean  gone  mad  ! '  said  Jones,  staring  at 
him  with  starting  eyes.  '  Dished  and  done  up  in  ten  min 
utes  !  That 's  what  I  call  going  to  Bedlam  by  express.' 

Although  Grosket  uttered  not  a  word  of  comment,  his 
keen  gray  eye,  bright  as  a  diamond  ;  his  puckered  brows ; 
his  compressed  lips,  and  his  hands  tightly  clasped  together, 
showed  that  he  viewed  his  work  with  emotions  of  the  most 
powerful  kind.  At  length  he  said,  in  a  low  tone,  as  if  com 
muning  with  himself  rather  than  addressing  the  only  person 
who  seemed  capable  of  hearing  him:  'If  he  goes  mad, 
he  '11  spoil  my  scheme.  He  '11  not  reap  the  whole  harvest 
that  I  have  sown  for  him.  He  must  live ;  ay,  and  in  his  sane 
mind,  to  feel  its  full  bitterness.  I,  /have  lived,'  said  he,  strik 
ing  his  breast ;  '/  have  borne  up  against  the  same  curse  that 
now  is  on  him.  /  have  had  the  same  feeling  gnawing  at  my 
heart,  giving  me  no  rest,  no  peace.  He  must  suffer.  He 
must  not  take  refuge  from  himself  in  madness.  He  shall 
not,'  said  he,  savagely.  *  Who  would  have  thought  that  the 
flint  which  the  old  fellow  carries  in  his  breast  and  calls  his 
heart,  had  feeling  in  it  ? ' 

Whether  these  remarks  reached  Rust's  ear,  or  whether  it 
was  that  his  mind,  after  the  first  shock  of  the  intelligence 


258  HARRY    HARSON. 

was  over,  was  beginning  to  rally,  is  a  matter  of  doubt ;  but 
from  some  cause  or  other,  he  suddenly  discontinued  his  sing 
ing,  passed  his  hand  across  his  forehead,  held  his  long  hair 
back  from  his  face,  and  stared  about  him ;  his  eye  wander 
ing  from  Grosket  to  Jones,  and  around  the  room,  and  then 
resting  on  the  floor.  He  sat  for  some  time  looking  stead 
fastly  down,  his  face  gradually  regaining  its  stern,  unbending 
character ;  his  thin  lips  compressing  themselves  until  his 
mouth  had  assumed  its  usual  expression  of  bitterness,  min 
gled  with  resolution. 

The  two  men  watched,  without  speaking,  the  progress  of 
this  metamorphosis.  At  last  he  rose,  and  turning  to  Gros 
ket,  said  in  a  calm  voice : 

*  You  've  done  your  worst ;  yet  you  see  Michael  Rust  can 
bear  it ; '  and  then  bowing  to  him,  he  said  :  '  Good-bye, 
Enoch.  Whatever  may  have  happened  to  my  child,  /  am 
blameless,  /never  sold  her  happiness  to  gratify  my  avarice. 
If  she  has  become  what  Enoch's  child  was,  the  sin  does  not 
lie  at  my  d-oor.  I  do  n't  know  how  it  is  with  yow.' 

Turning  to  Jones,  he  said,  in  the  same  quiet  tone : 
'Murderer  of  your  bosom-friend,  good-bye.'  The  door 
closed,  and  he  was  gone. 

A  bitter  execration  from  each  of  the  two  men  followed 
him.  From  Jones,  it  burst  forth  in  unbridled  fury,  and  he 
sprang  forward  to  avenge  the  taunt,  but  was  withheld  by 
Grosket,  who  grasped  his  arm,  then  as  suddenly  relinquished 
his  hold,  and  said  : 

'  Quick !  quick  !  Jones.  Drag  him  back  !  It  concerns 
your  safety  and  my  plans  to  get  him  back.' 

The  man  dashed  to  the  door  and  down  the  stairs.  In  a 
moment  he  reappeared : 

'  It 's  too  late.     He 's  in  the  street.' 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  259 

*  Curse  it !  that  was  a  blunder !  We  should  have  searched 
him.  He  carries  all  his  papers  with  him.' 

But  almost  at  the  same  moment  he  seemed  to  overcome 
his  vexation,  for  he  said : 

'  Well,  it  can't  be  helped,  so  there 's  no  use  in  grumbling 
about  it.  And  now,  Bill  Jones,'  said  he,  turning  to  the 
other,  'you  know  what  you've  done,  and  who  set  you  on. 
So  do  I.  He  's  worse  than  you  are.  If  you  were  he,  I  'd 
arrest  you  on  the  spot.  As  it  is,  I  say  you  had  better  make 
yourself  scarce.  Your  neck  is  in  danger ;  for  although  the 
death  of  Tim,  if  the  rumor  is  true,  was  accidental ' 

'  It  was,  it  was,  Mr.  Grosket,'  interrupted  Jones.  '  D  —  n 
it,  if  it  was  Rust,  if  it  was  only  him,  I  would  n't  mind  it. 
I'd  die  myself,  to  see  him  swing.' 

'  Well,  hear  me,'  continued  Grosket.  '  You  were  com 
mitting  a  felony  when  you  killed  Craig,  and  his  death, 
although  accidental,  is  murder.  I  'm  no  lawyer,  but  I  know 
that.  You  must  run  for  it.' 

'I'd  cuss  all  danger,'  said  Jones,  gnawing  his  lip,  'if  I 
could  only  lug  Rust  in  it  too.' 

'  Well,  well,'  returned  Grosket,  '  you  must  take  your  own 
course;  but  remember  I've  warned  you.  You  have  some 
good  traits  about  you,  Bill,  and  that 's  more  than  Rust  has. 
Good-bye  ! '  He  extended  his  hand  to  the  burglar.  Jones 
grasped  it  eagerly. 

'  Thank  you !  thank  you,  Mr.  Grosket,'  said  he,  the  tears 
starting  to  his  eyes.  '  If  you  only  knew  how  I  was  brought 
up,  how  I  suffered,  what  has  made  -me  what  I  am,  you 
would  n't  think  so  hard  of  me  as  some  do.  But  there  is 
blood  on  me  now  :  that 's  worse  than  all.  I  '11  never  get 
over  that.  I  might,  if  it  was  n't  Tim's.  Good-bye.  God 
bless  ye,  Mr.  Grosket !  My  blessing  won't  do  you  much 
good,  but  it  can't  hurt  you.' 


260  HARRY    HARSON. 

Grosket  shook  his  hand,  and  left  the  room  ;  and  the  des 
perate  man  whom  he  left,  melted  by  a  transient  word  of 
kindness,  which  had  found  its  way  to  his  rugged  heart, 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  wept. 

Once  in  the  street,  Rust  endeavored  to  bear  up  against 
his  fortune.  But  he  could  not.  His  mind  wandered, 
and  all  his  thoughts  were  strange,  fantastic,  and  shadowy. 
He  paused ;  dashed  his  hand  impatiently  against  his  fore 
head,  and  endeavored  to  shake  off  the  spell.  No,  no !  it 
would  not  leave  him.  Failure  in  his  schemes !  dishonor  to 
his  child !  He  could  think  of  them,  and  of  them  only. 
Once  on  this  theme,  his  mind  became  more  bewildered  than 
ever;  and  yielding  himself  to  its  impulses,  he  fell  into  a 
slow  pace,  and  sauntered  on,  with  his  chin  bent  down  on  his 
breast. 

From  the  thickly-settled  parts  of  the  town  he  went  on, 
until  he  came  to  streets  where  the  bustle  and  crowd  were 
less ;  then  to  others,  which  were  nearly  deserted ;  then  on 
he  went,  until  he  reached  a  quarter  where  the  houses  stood 
far  apart,  with  vacant  lots  between  them.  Still  he  kept  on. 
Then  came  fields,  and  cottages,  and  farm-houses,  surrounded 
by  tall  trees.  Still  on  he  went,  still  wading  through  a  mass 
of  chaotic  fancies,  springing  up,  and  reeling  and  flitting 
through  his  mind ;  shadows  of  things  that  had  been,  and 
might  be  ;  ghosts  of  the  past ;  prophets  of  the  future.  He 
had  become  a  very  child.  At  last  he  .stood  on  the  bank  of 
the  river ;  and  then  for  the  first  time  he  seemed  to  awaken 
from  his  trance. 

It  was  a  glorious  day,  whose  sunshine  might  have  found 
its  way  even  into  his  black  heart.  Oh !  how  soft,  and 
mellow,  and  pure,  the  hurricane  of  the  last  night  had  left  it ! 
Not  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  not  a  breath  to  ripple  the  water,  or 


HARRY    HARSON.  261 

to  wave  the  Ipng  trailing  locks  of  the  hoary  willows  which 
nodded  over  its  banks. 

Rust  looked  about  him  with  a  bewildered  gaze,  until  his 
eye  became  fixed  upon  the  water.  '  It 's  very  quiet,  very 
quiet,'  said  he ;  'I  wonder  if  a  man,  once  engulfed  in  it, 
feels  peace.'  He  pressed  his  hand  to  his  breast,  and  muttered : 
''Here  it  is  gone  for  ever ! ' 

He  loitered  listlessly  on,  under  the  trees.  His  step  was 
feeble ;  and  he  stooped  and  tottered,  as  if  decrepit.  He 
stopped  again,  shook  his  head,  and  went  on,  looking  upon 
the  ground,  and  at  times  long  and  wistfully  at  the  river. 

An  old  man,  leaning  on  a  stout  cane>  who  had  been 
watching  him,  at  last  came  up.  Raising  his  hat  as  he  did 
so,  he  said : 

*  You  seem,  like  myself,  to  be  an  admirer  of  this  noble 
river.' 

Rust  looked  up  at  him  sharply,  ready  to  gather  in  his 
energies,  if  necessary.  But  there  was  nothing  in  the  mild, 
dignified  face  of  the  speaker  to  invite  suspicion,  and  he 
replied  in  a  feeble  tone : 

*  Yes,  yes ;  it  is  a  noble  river.' 

*  I  've  seen  many,  in  my  long  life,'  said  the  other,  *  and 
have  never  met  its  equal.' 

Rust  paused,  as  if  he  did  not  hear  him,  and  then  con 
tinued  in  a  musing  tone : 

*  How  smooth  it  is !  how  calm  !     Many  have  found  peace 
there,  who  never  found  it  in  life.   Drowning 's  an  easy  death, 
I'm  told.' 

The  stranger  replied  gravely,  and  even  sternly : 

*  They  have  escaped  the  troubles  of  life,  and  plunged  into 
those  of  eternity ; '  and  then,  as  if  willing  to  give  Rust  an 
opportunity  of  explaining  away  the  singular  character  of  the 
remark,  he  said :  *  I  hope  you  do  not  meditate  suicide  ? ' 


262  HARRY    HARSON. 

'No,'  replied  Rust,  quietly,  'not  at  present;  but  I've  often 
thought  that  many  a  wrecked  spirit  will  find  there  what  it 
never  found  on  earth  —  peace.' 

'The  body  may,'  returned  the  other,  'but  not  the  sou].' 

Rust  smiled  doubtfully,  and  walked  off.  The  man  watched, 
and  even  followed  him ;  but  seeing  him  turn  from  the  river, 
he  took  another  direction,  occasionally  pausing  to  look  back. 
Not  so  Rust.  From  the  time  he  had  parted  with  the  stranger, 
he  had  forgotten  him,  and  his  thoughts  wandered  back  to 
their  old  theme.  It  was  strange  that  he  should  believe  so 
implicitly  Grosket's  tale,  coming  as  it  did  from  one  whom  he 
knew  hated  him.  Yet  he  did  believe  it.  There  was  proof 
of  its  truth  in  Grosket's  manner ;  in  his  look ;  in  his  tone 
of  assured  triumph.  Yet,  although  Rust  brooded  over 
nothing  else  that  livelong  day,  he  could  not  realize  it ;  he 
could  not  appreciate  how  desolate  and  lonely  he  was.  He 
could  only  fancy  what  life  would  be,  if  what  Grosket  had 
told  him  had  happened.  '  This  is  not  all  a  dream,  I  sup 
pose,'  muttered  he,  pausing  as  he  went,  and  passing  his  hand 
across  his  forehead.  '  No,  no ;  I  'm  awake  —  wide  awake ; 
and  /  am  Michael  Rust;  that's  more  strange  than  all.' 

After  hours  of  wandering,  he  found  himself  at  his  office, 
ascended  the  stairs,  opened  the  door,  and  went  in.  It  was 
dark,  for  the  lights  had  been  blazing  in  the  shop -windows 
before  he  left  the  street ;  but  he  sat  down  without  observing 
it ;  and  there  he  remained  until  Kornicker  came  in  with  a 
light. 

Rust  made  no  reply  to  the  salutation  which  he  received. 
Kornicker  placed  the  light  on  the  table ;  and  after  loitering 
round  the  room,  and  busying  himself  with  a  few  papers 
which  he  had  arranged  on  the  table,  to  give  it  a  business 
like  appearance,  he  asked : 

*  Do  you  want  me  any  more  to-night  ? ' 


HARRY    HARSON.  263 

'  No  ;  you  may  go.' 

The  dismissal  and  departure  of  Mr.  Kornicker  were  almost 
simultaneous.  His  heavy  foot  went  thumping  from  step  to 
step,  and  finally  the  street-door  banged  shut  after  him.  Rust 
sat  without  moving,  listening  to  every  tramp  of  his  heavy 
foot,  until  the  door  shut  it  out. 

'  So,  he 's  gone,'  said  he,  drawing  a  long  breath,  and 
cuddling  himself  up  on  his  chair.  *  He  '11  be  in  my  way  no 
more  to-night.' 

He  shivered  slightly;  and  then  got  up  and  drew  his 
chair  nearer  to  the  grate,  although  there  was  no  fire  in  it. 
'And  this  is  then  the  end  of  all  my  schemes,'  muttered  he;  'I 
have  gone  on  for  years  in  the  same  beaten  track,  fighting  off 
all  who  could  interfere  with  me.  The  affection  of  those  who 
would  have  loved  me  —  friends,  relatives,  those  nearest  to  me, 
with  the  same  blood  in  our  veins,  nursed  in  the  same  arms, 
who  drew  life  from  the  same  source  —  this  cold  heart  has 
repulsed,  until  they  have  all  abandomed  me ! ' 

He  leaned  his  head  on  his  hands,  and  tears,  scalding  tears, 
gushed  from  his  eyes.  *  I  did  it  for  her.  It  was  to  get  gold 
to  lavish  on  her.  I  would  have  chained  myself  for  life  to 
that  old  man's  daughter,  to  get  wealth  ;  I  would  have  added 
the  destruction  of  those  children  to  the  catalogue  of  my 
crimes,  that  I  might  have  grasped  their  inheritance,  to  have 
showered  all  that  I  had  gathered  by  toil  and  crime  upon  her. 
She  was  my  hope,  my  pride,  my  own  dear  darling  child ; 
but  she  is  shipwrecked  now ;  she  has  withered  my  heart. 
I  would  have  shed  its  last  blood  for  her.  I  would  —  I 
would;  indeed  I  would!  But  it's  useless  to  think  of  it. 
She  can  never  be  what  she  was;  the  bright,  pure-souled, 
spotless  child  whom  I  worshipped.  Yes,  yes ;  I  did  worship 
her !  Why  deny  it  ?  Better,  far  better  she  had  died,  for 


264  HAR  IF    H ARSON. 

then  I  might  still  have  cherished  her  memory.  It 's  too  late 
now.  She 's  become  a  castaway.' 

He  paused.  From  a  state  of  deep  and  querulous  despond 
ency,  he  gradually  recovered  composure  ;  then  his  mood 
grew  sterner  and  sterner ;  until  his  compressed  lips  and  flash 
ing  eye  showed  that  he  had  passed  from  one  extreme  to  the 
other. 

*  Is  there  nothing  left  to  live  for  ? '  exclaimed  he  ;  '  nothing 
left?  One  thing  can  yet  be  done.  I  must  ascertain  her 
disgrace  beyond  a  doubt.  Then  atonement  can  and  shall  be 
made,  or  he  had  better  never  have  been  born ! ' 

Rust  stood  up,  with  an  expression  of  bold,  honest  indig 
nation,  such  as  he  had  rarely  worn,  stamped  on  every 
feature.  '-This  must  be  accomplished,'  said  he.  'Every 
thing  else  must  be  abandoned ;  this  done,  let  me  die ;  for  I 
cannot  love  her  as  I  did,  and  I  might  hate  her.  Better  die!' 


HARRY    HARSON.  265 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

RICTKIRD  HOLMES,  Esq.,  was  sitting  in  his  office,  two  days 
after  the  events  narrated  in  the  last  chapter,  with  his  nose 
within  a  few  inches  of  a  law-book  which  rested  on  his 
knees,  when  he  was  aroused  by  the  opening  of  the  door,  and 
the  entrance  of  a  man.  Holmes  was  so  much  out  of  the 
world,  and  out  of  the  current  of  business,  that  he  did  what 
a  practitioner  at  the  bar  of  his  age  and  standing  rarely  does  j 
that  is,  he  looked  up  without  waiting  till  he  was  addressed. 

'Ah,  Harson  !  —  it 's  you,  is  it  ? '  said  he,  laying  aside  his 
book,  but  without  rising. 

Harry  walked  up,  shook  hands  with  him,  and  seated 
himself. 

*  We  Ve  been  hard  at  work,  and  have  made  some  progress/ 
said  he,  taking  off  his  hat,  and  placing  it  on  the  table. 
*  We  Ve  got  the  woman.' 

'  What  woman  ? ' 

'Blossom,'  replied  Harson;  'I've  brought  her  here  to 
answer  for  herself.  She  was  in  Rust's  employ,  and  received 
the  children  from  him.  She  's  below.' 

'  What  news  of  the  boy  ? '  inquired  Holmes. 

'All  right ;  Grosket  has  him.  Would  you  like  to  see  the 
woman  ? ' 

'It  would  be  as  well,'  said  Holmes,  drumming  on  the 
table.  'We'll  hear  what  she  has  to  say.  Does  she  com 
municate  what  she  knows  willingly,  or  under  compulsion  ? ' 

1  She 's  not  very  talkative,'  answered  Harson,  '  and  seems 
terribly  afraid  of  Rust.' 

12 


268  HARRY    HARSON. 

ll  think  we  can  squeeze  the  truth  out  of  her,'  replied 
Holmes.  *  Bring  her  up.' 

Harson  went  out,  and  in  a  few  minutes  reappeared  with 
Mrs.  Blossom.  The  lawyer  pointed  to  a  chair,  into  which 
the  lady  sank,  apparently  in  a  state  of  great  exhaustion  and 
agitation  ;  for  she  moaned,  and  rocked  to  and  fro,  and 
wrung  her  hands. 

'  Your  name 's  Blossom,  I  think,'  said  Holmes,  evincing 
no  sympathy  whatever  with  her  sufferings. 

'Ah 's  me  !  ah 's  me  !  I  'm  very  old  !  I  'm  very  old  ! ' 
exclaimed  the  lady  in  a  moaning  tone,  but  without  making 
any  reply  to  the  question. 

*  Hark  ye,'  said  Holmes,  in  a  stern  tone,  *  I  have  not  sent 
for  you,  to  be  trifled  with.  You  have  come  here  to  disclose 
the  deeds  of  a  scoundrel ;  and  disclose  them  you  must.  You 
shall  answer  all  my  questions,  truly,  honestly,  and  without 
equivocation,  or  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you.  I  am  aware  of 
offences  committed  by  you,  which,  if  punished  as  they  merit, 
would  send  you  to  prison.  I  tell  you  this,  that  you  may 
know  exactly  how  we  stand  with  reference  to  each  other. 
If  you  wish  to  serve  yourself,  you  will  find  true  and  prompt 
replies  to  whatever  I  ask.  What 's  your  name  ? ' 

Mrs.  Blossom  oscillated  in  her  chair,  glanced  at  the  wall, 
replied  l  Blossom,'  and  buried  her  face  in  a  rag  of  a  shawl. 

'  Good !  Where  do  you  live  ? '  demanded  the  lawyer. 
The  woman  answered,  and  Holmes  wrote  it  down. 

4  Do  you  know  a  man  by  the  name  of  Michael  Rust  ? ' 

Mrs.  Blossom's  chair  became  very  uneasy,  and  she  was 
seized  with  a  violent  cough.  The  lawyer  waited  until  her 
cough  was  better,  and  repeated  the  question,  accompanying 
it  by  a  look  which  produced  an  answer  in  the  affirmative. 

4  What  other  name  did  you  ever  know  him  to  bear  ? ' 

Mrs.   Blossom   suddenly   found   her   voice,    and    replied 


HARRY    IT  ARSON.  267 

boldly :  *  No  Qther ; '  and  here  she  spoke  the  truth ;  for 
although  Rust  had  at  last  been  obliged  to  disclose  to  her  his 
assumed  name,  yet  he  had  trusted  her  no  farther  than  was 
absolutely  necessary. 

'  How  long  have  you  known  him  ? ' 

Mrs.  Blossom  again  lost  her  voice,  but  found  it  instantly 
on  meeting  the  eye  of  Holmes ;  and  she  answered  bluntly : 

'About  four  years.' 

'  What  led  to  your  acquaintance  ? ' 

The  woman  cast  a  shrewd  suspicious  glance  at  him,  as  if 
calculating  how  far  she  might  trifle  with  impunity :  but 
there  was  something  in  his  manner  that  was  not  encourag 
ing,  and  she  replied,  '  that  she  could  not  remember.' 

Holmes  laid  down  his  pen,  and  pushing  back  his  chair  so 
that  he  faced  her,  said,  in  a  quiet  but  very  decided  manner : 

'  Mrs.  Blossom,  you  have  been  brought  here  for  the  pur 
pose  of  giving  us  such  information  as  will  enable  us  to  do 
justice  to  a  person  who  has  been  greatly  injured  by  this 
man  Rust.  I  mention  this,  not  because  I  suppose  the  motive 
will  have  any  great  weight  with  you,  but  to  let  you  see  that 
the  object  of  our  investigation  is  nothing  against  yourself. 
Your  answers  are  important  to  us ;  for  at  present  we  know 
no  other  than  yourself,  of  whom  we  can  obtain  the  informa 
tion  we  require.  I  do  not  conceal  this,  nor  will  I  conceal 
the  fact  that,  unless  you  do  answer  me,  you  shall  leave  this 
room  for  a  prison.  I  told  you  so  before  ;  I  repeat  it  now ; 
I  will  not  repeat  it  a  third  time.  I  already  know  enough  of 
the  matter  on  which  I  am  interrogating  you,  to  be  able  to 
detect  falsehood  in  your  answers.' 

There  was  something  either  in  the  words  of  the  lawyer  or 
in  the  formation  of  her  chair  that  caused  Mrs.  Blossom  to 
sit  very  uneasily,  and  at  the  same  time  to  cast  a  glance 
behind  her,  as  if  there  existed  a  strong  connection  between 


2C8  HARRY    H ARSON. 

her  th»«tights  and  the  door.  She  was,  however,  used  to  trying 
circumstances,  and  did  not  lose  her  presence  of  mind.  She 
made  no  reply,  but  sat  with  every  faculty,  which  long  train 
ing  had  sharpened  to  a  high  degree  of  cunning,  on  the  alert ; 
but  she  was  not  a  little  taken  by  surprise  when  Holmes, 
after  taking  from  the  table  a  packet  of  papers,  selected  one, 
and  having  spent  a  few  minutes  in  examining  it,  said  to  her : 
'  To  convince  you  that  we  are  perfectly  acquainted  with 
the  nature  of  your  dealings  with  Rust,  I  will  enter  into  a  few 
details,  which  may  perhaps  enable  you  to  recollect  something 
more.  Four  years  since,  on  the  sixteenth  of  December,  a 
man  by  the  name  of  Blossom,  with  whom  you  lived,  and 
whose  name  you  bear,  although  you  are  not  his  wife,  pro 
posed  to  you  to  take  charge  of  two  children,  a  boy  and  girl. 
At  first  you  refused,  but  finally  agreed  to  do  it  on  receiving 
five  hundred  dollars,  and  the  assurance  that  no  inquiry 
would  be  made  as  to  the  treatment  they  received  at  youi 
hands,  and  that  whether  they  lived  or  died  was  a  matter  of 
indifference  to  the  person  who  placed  them  in  your  charge, 
and  would  not  be  too  closely  investigated.  The  children 
came.  They  were  quite  young.  You  had  them  for  a  week, 
and  were  then  informed  that  they  must  go,  for  a  time,  to 
the  country.  You  asked  no  questions,  but  gave  them  up, 
and  they  were  sent  away,  the  money  for  their  support  being 
furnished  by  the  same  hand  that  threw  them  upon  your 
mercy.  In  a  year  or  so  they  were  brought  back,  and  were 
again  intrusted  to  you,  with  instructions  to  break  them 
down,  and,  if  possible,  to  send  them  to  their  graves ;  but  if 
their  bodies  were  proof  against  cruelty,  then  so  to  pollute 
their  very  souls,  and  familiarize  them  with  crime,  that  they 
should  forget  what  they  had  been ;  and  that  even  those  who 
should  have  loved  them  best  would  blush  to  see  what  they 
were.  You  began  your  work  well,  for  you  had  a  stern, 


HARRY    HARSON.  269 

savage  master  ,over  you  —  Michael  Rust.  Thus  much,'  said 
he,  '  I  know ;  but  I  must  know  more.  You  must  identify 
the  children  as  the  same  first  delivered  to  you  by  Rust.  You 
must  disclose  the  names  of  the  persons  with  whom  they 
lived  in  the  country.  You  must  also  give  me  such  informa 
tion  as  will  enable  us  to  fasten  this  crime  on  Rust.  Another 
person  could  have  proved  all  this  —  the  man  Blossom ;  but 
you  know  he  is  dead.' 

He  paused,  for  Mrs.  Blossom's  face  grew  deadly  pale  as  he 
spoke.  It  was  momentary,  however  ;  and  might  have  passed 
away  entirely,  had  not  a  strange  suspicion  fastened  itself  on 
his  mind.  He  added,  in  a  slow  tone  : 

'  What  ailed  him,  you  know  best.' 

Mrs.  Blossom's  thin  lips  grew  perfectly  white,  and  moved 
as  if  she  were  attempting  to  speak. 

'  Will  you  give  me  the  information  I  require  ?  or  will  you 
accept  the  alternative  ? '  said  Holmes,  still  keeping  his  eye 
upon  her. 

'  Go  on  ;  what  do  you  want  ? '  demanded  she,  in  a  quick, 
husky  voice. 

'  You  are  acquainted  with  Michael  Rust  ? ' 

'  I  am,'  replied  she,  in  the  same  quick,  nervous  manner. 

'  How  did  you  first  become  acquainted  with  him  ? ' 

*  You  know  all  that,'  was  the  abrupt  reply.  '  Why  should 
I  go  over  it  again  ?  It 's  all  true,  as  you  said  it.' 

'  Did  he  ever  go  by  any  other  name  than  Rust  ? ' 

'He  never  told  me  any  name  at  all,'  said  the  woman, 
*  and  threatened  my  life  if  I  found  any  out ;  but  I  did  —  I 
did.  It  was  Rust !  Michael  Rust ! ' 

'Any  other  name  ? '  inquired  Holmes. 

The  woman  shook  her  head.     '  None  ! ' 

Holmes  paused  to  make  a  note  of  it,  and  then  asked : 


270  HARRY    EARS  ON. 

4  What  is  the  name  of  the  person,  in  the  country,  who 
took  charge  of  the  children  ? ' 

4  I  do  n't  know,'  replied  the  woman.  '  Michael  Rust  sent 
a  man  for  them,  who  took  them  off.' 

'  Who  was  this  man  ? ' 

'  I  do  n't  know ;  I  never  saw  him.  Mr.  Blossom  gave  the 
children  to  him,  and  never  told  me  his  name.' 

4  Good,'  said  Holmes,  in  his  short,  abrupt  manner.  '  Where 
are  these  children  now  ? ' 

4 One's  at  his  house,'  replied  she,  pointing  to  Harson. 
4  The  other,  by  this  time,  is  with  a  man  named  Grosket. 
He 's  been  arter  him,  and  I  suppose  has  got  him  by  this 
time.' 

4  Enoch  Grosket  ? '  inquired  Holmes. 

The  woman  nodded.  4 1  told  him  where  he  'd  find  him. 
He  went  straight  off  to  fetch  him.' 

4  Will  you  swear  that  they  are  the  same  children  brought 
to  you  four  years  since  ? '  said  Holmes,  pausing  in  his  writ 
ing,  and  running  his  eye  over  the  notes  which  he  had  made. 
*  Do  you  know  them  to  be  the  same  ? ' 

4  The  man  said  so,  who  brought  'em  back  at  the  end  of 
the  year.  That 's  all  I  know  about  it.  They  never  left  me 
arter  that.' 

4  Who  was  that  man  ? ' 

4  Tim  Craig,'  replied  the  woman ;  4  but  he  did  n't  know 
that  Mr.  Rust  had  any  thing  to  do  with  them  then.  He 
thought  it  was  Grosket.' 

4  Tim  draig !  and  he  's  dead.  The  only  person  who  could 
reveal  their  place  of  concealment  during  that  year,  and  the 
name  of  those  who  had  the  care  of  them.  The  chain  is 
broken,  by  which  to  identify  them  as  the  lost  children  of 
George  Colton.  Who  can  aid  us  in  this  ? ' 


HARRY    HARSON.  271 

*  I  CAN  ! '  said  a  voice. 

All  three  started ;  for  there,  at  their  very  elbow,  stood 
Michael  Rust ;  but  Rust,  fearfully  altered,  worn  down,  wan, 
haggard,  with  sunken  cheeks,  and  features  rigid  and  color 
less.  But,  wrecked  as  he  was,  there  was  still  that  strange 
sneering  smile  on  his  lip,  which  seemed  as  if  only  parting 
to  utter  sarcasm  and  mockery.  But  now  he  was  serious  in 
his  mood,  for  he  repeated  : 

4 1  can  ;  and  without  my  aid,  the  secret  must  be  a  secret 
for  ever.' 

Holmes  rose,  angrily,  from  his  seat. 

'  What  brought  you  here  ? '  demanded  he. 

'  Be  seated,  I  beg  of  you,'  said  Rust,  bowing,  and  speaking 
in  a  low,  mocking  tone.  '  What  brought  me  here  ?  You 
called  upon  me,  I  think ;  it  was  but  civil  to  return  the  visit. 
I  have  come  to  do  so.' 

'  This  is  idle,  Sir,'  replied  Holmes,  coldly.  '  You  came  for 
some  purpose.  Name  it.  The  sooner  this  interview  is  over, 
the  more  agreeeble  I  suppose  it  will  be  for  both  of  us.' 

'  For  me,  certainly,'  said  Rust,  in  a  manner  so  constrained 
and  different  from  his  usual  one,  that  the  lawyer  was  in 
doubt  whether  he  was  in  jest  or  earnest.  Then  he  added,  in 
a  bitter  tone :  *  You  ask  what  brought  me  here.  Destiny, 
folly,  revenge  perhaps  against  my  own  heart's  blood.  Call 
it  what  you  will ;  here  I  am ;  and  ready  to  clear  up  the 
very  matter  which  now  perplexes  you.  What  more  do  you 
want  ? ' 

Holmes  replied,  with  a  sarcastic  smile :  *  The  assistance  of 
Michael  Rust  is  likely  to  be  as  great  as  his  sincerity.  We 
certainly  should  place  great  reliance  on  it.' 

Rust,  perfectly  unmoved  by  the  taunt,  answered  in  a  tone 
BO  bitter,  so  full  of  hatred  to  himself,  so  replete  with  the  out- 


272  HARRY    HARSON. 

pouring  of  a  cankered  heart,  so  despairing  and  reckless,  that 
the  lawyer  felt  that  even  in  him  there  might  be  some  truth : 

'  I  care  not  whether  you  trust  me  or  not ;  I  care  not 
whether  you  believe  me  or  not.  If  Michael  Rust  could  ever 
have  been  swayed  by  the  opinions  of  others,  it  would  have 
been  before  this ;  it 's  too  late  to  begin  now.  I  came  here 
because  I  have  failed  in  all  I  undertook  ;  because  I  am  be 
ginning  to  hate  the  one  for  whom  I  have  toiled,  until  I  grew 
gray  with  the  wearing  away  of  mind  and  body  ;  because  the 
soul  of  life  is  gone.  I  do  it  out  of  revenge  against  that  per 
son.  It  is  not  remorse;  it  is  not  conscience;  but  it's  re 
venge.  Look  at  me :  that  person  has  blasted  me.  Do  I  not 
show  it  in  every  feature  and  limb  ?  Now  you  understand 
me.  My  schemes  are  abandoned ;  and  I  shall  soon  be  where 
neither  man  nor  law  can  reach  me.  My  secret  can  do  me  no 
good  ;  why  should  I  keep  it  ?  Perhaps  the  recollection  of 
past  days  and  of  past  favors  from  one  whom  I  have  wronged, 
may  have  had  its  weight;  perhaps  not.  I've  come  to  tell 
the  truth.  If  you  will  hear  it,  well ;  if  not,  I  go,  and  it  goes 
with  me.' 

Holmes  and  Harson  exchanged  looks,  and  Harson  nodded, 
as  if  in  acquiescence  to  some  proposition  which  he  supposed 
the  looks  of  the  other  to  indicate. 

'  Well,  Sir,'  replied  Holmes,  '  we  will  hear  what  you  have 
to  say.' 

*  Stop,'  said  Rust ;  '  before  uttering  a  word,  I  must  have  a 
promise.7 

The  lawyer  looked  at  him,  and  then  at  Harson,  as  much 
&B  to  say  :  '  I  expected  it.  There 's  some  trick  in  it.' 

Rust  observed  it,  and  said :  '  Spare  your  suspicions  ;  I 
have  come  here  to  be  frank  and  honest  in  word  and  deed ; 
and  Michael  Rust  can  be  so,  when  the  fancy  seizes  him. 
The  promise  I  require  is  this :  whatever  I  may  reveal,  no 


HARRY    H ARSON.  273 

matter  what  the  penalty,  you  will  not  set  the  blood-hounds 
of  the  law  on  my  track  within  forty- eight  hours.  I  have  yet 
one  act  to  perform  in  the  great  farce  of  life.  That  accom 
plished,  you  may  do  your  worst.' 

*  This  is  all  very  strange,'  said  Holmes,  eyeing  the  thin, 
excited  features  of  his  visitor,  as  if  not  altogether  sure  of  his 
sanity.  4  If  you  fear  the  punishment  of  your  misdeeds,  why 
reveal  them  ?  Why  place  yourself  in  our  power,  or  run  the 
risk  of  our  interfering  with  your  future  movements  ?' 

Rust  replied  bitterly :  '  You  shall  hear.  My  whole  life  has 
been  spent  for  one  person  —  my  own  child.  Every  faculty  of 
mind  and  body  has  been  devoted  to  her,  and  every  crime  I 
have  committed  was  to  promote  her  interest.  Scruples  were 
disregarded ;  ties  of  blood  set  at  defiance  ;  every  thing  that 
binds  man  to  man,  that  deters  from  wrong,  were  disregarded, 
if  they  stood  in  the  way  of  that  one  grand  aim  of  life.  She 
forgot  all !  She  has  broken  me  down,  heart  and  spirit.  Love 
and  devotion  were  crushed  with  them,  and  revenge  has  sprung 
up  from  their  ruins.  Ay !  revenge  against  my  own  child  ! 
Should  any  thing  prevent  my  doing  what  I  have  yet  to  do, 
and  should  my  brother  die,  and  his  children  not  be  found, 
she  would  be  his  heir.  /  would  have  labored  and  succeeded 
for  one  who  has  disgraced  me,  and  made  me  what  you  see 
<ne!' 

He  stretched  out  his  thin  hands,  displaying  the  large 
veins  coursing  beneath  the  skin,  and  apparently  full  to 
bursting.  '  How  wasted  they  are ! '  He  smiled  as  he  looked 
at  them,  and  then  asked  :  '  Will  you  promise  ? ' 

The  lawyer  turned  to  Harson,  and  then  said  :  *  I  promise ; 
do  you,  Harson  ? '  Harry  nodded. 

'  Good ! '  said  Rust  abruptly.  4  You  know  my  name,  and 
much  of  my  history.  All  the  facts  which  you  detailed  to  me 
at  my  office  a  short  time  since  are  true  —  true  almost  to  the 

12* 


274  HARRY    HA  R  SON. 

very  letter.  Michael  Rust  and  Henry  Cotton  are  or.e.  The 
plodding,  scheming,  heartless,  unprincipled  Henry  Cotton, 
who  could  sell  his  brother's  own  flesh  and  blood  for  gold ; 
who  could  forget  all  the  kindnesses  heaped  upon  him,  and 
stab  his  benefactor,  and  this  wreck  of  Michael  Rust,  are 
one!' 

He  struck  his  hand  against  his  chest,  and  strode  up  and 
down  the  room.  '•He  was  rich,  and  /  was  poor :  he  gave  me 
the  means  of  living,  but  I  wanted  more.  I  had  my  eye  on 
his  entire  wealth,  and  I  wanted  him  to  be  in  his  grave.  But 
he  thwarted  me  in  that.  Feeble  and  sickly,  so  that  a 
breath  might  have  destroyed  him,  he  lived  on  ;  and  at  last, 
as  if  to  balk  me  farther,  he  married.  Two  children  were 
born ;  two  more  obstacles  between  me  and  my  aim.  Two 
children  !  —  two  more  of  the  same  blood  for  me  to  love. 
Ho !  ho !  how  Michael  Rust  loved  those  babes  ! '  exclaimed 
he,  clutching  his  ringers  above  his  head,  and  gasping  as  he 
spoke.  He  turned,  and  fastening  his  glaring  eye  on  the 
lawyer,  griped  his  fingers  together,  with  his  teeth  hard  set, 
and  speaking  through  them,  said  in  a  sharp  whisper :  *  I 
could  have  strangled  them ! ' 

He  paused  ;  and  then  went  on :  'At  last  came  the  thought 
of  removing  them.  At  first  it  was  vague ;  it  came  like  a 
shadow,  and  went  off ;  then  it  came  again,  and  more  distinct. 
Then  it  became  stronger  and  stronger,  until  it  grew  into  a 
passion  —  a  very  madness.  At  last  my  mind  was  made  up, 
and  my  plans  formed.  I  trusted  no  one,  but  carried  them 
off  myself,  and  delivered  them  to  the  husband  of  that  wo 
man,'  pointing  to  Mrs.  Blossom.  *  I  told  him  nothing  of 
their  history :  he  was  paid  to  take  charge  of  them,  and  asked 
no  questions.  Then  came  the  clamor  of  pursuit.  I  daily 
met  and  comforted  my  broken-hearted  brother  and  his  wife ; 
I  held  out  hopes  which  I  knew  were  false  ;  I  offered  rewards; 


HARRY    EARS  0 N.  2 7£ 

I  turned  pursuit  in  every  direction  except  the  right  one. 
They  both  thanked  me,  and  looked  upon  me  as  their  best 
friend;  and  so  I  was,  for  I  kept  up  hope;  and  what  is 
life  without  it  ?  At  last  the  search  approached  the  neigh 
borhood  where  the  children  really  were,  and  they  were  sent 
to  the  country.  The  only  person  who  aided  me  was  Enoch 
Grosket.  I  told  him,  however,  nothing  respecting  the  his 
tory  of  the  children,  nor  where  they  went ;  but  he  found  it 
out  afterwards.' 

'  Where  was  it  ? '  inquired  Holmes,  anxiously,  '  and  to 
whom  did  you  send  them  ? ' 

1 1  have  prepared  ic  all,'  said  Rust :  he  drew  a  letter  from 
his  pocket  and  handed  it  to  him.  *  You  '11  find  it  there,  and 
the  names  of  the  persons ;  they  know  nothing  of  the  child 
ren  ;  but  they  can  identify  them  as  those  left  with  them  four 
years  ago ;  and  they  still  have  the  clothes  which  they  wore 
at  the  time ;  but  the  girl's  resemblance  to  her  mother  will 
save  all  that  trouble.' 

He  paused,  with  his  dark  eyes  fastened  on  the  floor,  and 
his  lips  working  with  intense  emotion. 

'And  is  it  possible  that  the  love  of  gold  can  lead  one  to 
crimes  like  these  ! '  said  Holmes,  in  a  subdued  tone. 

'  Love  of  gold ! '  exclaimed  Rust,  fiercely ;  *  what  cared  I 
for  gold  ?  Ho !  ho !  Michael  Rust  values  gold  but  as  dross  : 
but  it  is  the  world ;  the  cringing,  obsequious,  miser-hearted 
world,  which  kisses  the  very  feet  of  wealth,  that  set  Michael 
Rust  on  ;  it  was  this  that  lashed  him  forward ;  but  not  for 
himself.  I  married  a  woman  whom  I  loved,'  said  he,  in  a 
quick,  stern  tone ;  '  she  abandoned  me  and  became  an  out 
cast,  and  paid  the  penalty  by  an  outcast's  fate :  she  died  in 
the  streets.  The  love  which  I  bore  her  I  transferred  to  my 
child.  I  was  poor,  and  I  resolved  that  she  should  be  rich. 
Can  jou  understand  my  motive  now?  I  loved  my  own 


276  HARRY    H ARSON. 

flesh  and  blood  better  than  my  brother's.     I  have  now  re 
linquished  my  plans,  and  have  told  you  why.' 

A  pause  of  some  moments  ensued,  and  Rust  said :  '  Is 
there  any  thing  more  that  you  want  ?  If  so,  tell  me  at  once, 
for  after  to-day  we  shall  never  meet  again.' 

Holmes  ran  his  eye  over  the  papers,  and  selecting  two 
letters,  handed  them  to  Rust,  and  said : 

'  How  do  you  account  for  the  difference  of  that  hand-writ 
ing,  if  Michael  Rust  and  Henry  Colton  are  one  ? ' 

Michael  Rust  wrote  one  hand,  Henry  Colton  another,' 
said  Rust ;  *  but  /  wrote  both.'  He  seized  a  pen,  wrote  a 
few  words,  signed  the  names  Michael  Rust  and  Henry  Col 
ton,  and  flung  it  on  the  table.  '  The  game  had  been  well 
studied  before  it  was  played.' 

4  Your  writing  is  well  disguised  indeed,'  said  the  lawyer, 
comparing  it  with  the  letters ;  '  it  solves  that  difficulty.' 

'Any  thing  else  ? '  demanded  Rust,  impatiently ;  '  my  time 
is  limited.' 

Holmes  shook  his  head ;  but  Harson  said :  'A  few  words 
about  Jacob  Rhoneland.' 

'Well!1 

*  You  accuse  him  of  forgery ;  what  does  that  mean  ? ' 

'  He  was  a  fool.  I  wanted  to  marry  his  daughter ;  I 
represented  myself  to  him  as  very  rich,  to  tempt  his  avarice ; 
that  failed.  I  added  entreaties  ;  they  failed.  Then  I  tried 
the  effect  of  fear.  He  yielded  to  that  for  a  time,  but  at  last 
he  overcame  even  that.' 

'And  the  tale?' 

'  Was  well  fabricated,  but  false.7 

'AndNedSomers?' 

'  I  had  to  get  rid  of  hjqtv -.what  could  I  do  while  he  was 
dallying  round  the  girl^fl  IK  get  rid  of  him  :  a  few  lies 
whispered  to  the  old  man^ulLjiiia  adrift.  "But  I'm  tired 


HARRY    H ARSON.  277 

of  this  ;  I  came  to  tell  what  I  pleased,  and  nothing  more, 
and  I  must  be  at  work.  You  must  respect  your  promise,' 
said  he,  turning  to  Holmes. 

*  I  shall,  and  I  hope  your  present  errand  at  least  is  an 
honest  one.' 

'  It  is,'  said  Rust,  with  a  strange  smile  ;  '  it  is  to  punish  a 
criminal.'  He  opened  the  door  and  went  off  wUhout  ao- 
other  word. 


i- 


278  HARRY    HARSON 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

BARRY  HARSON  strode  into  his  own  house,  with  his  jolly 
faoe  brimful  of  cheerfulness.  It  shone  out  of  his  eyes  ;  out 
of  the  corners  of  his  half-closed  mouth  ;  and  even  out  of  his 
full,  round  double  chin.  Every  part  of  him  seemed  glowing 
with  it ;  and  no  sooner  had  he  got  in  his  parlor,  than  he 
flung  his  hat  on  the  table  ;  snapped  his  fingers  in  perfect 
ecstacy ;  made  the  hazardous  experiment  of  a  pirouette 
around  the  table,  and  concluded  bis  performances  by  making 
two  or  three  passes  with  his  cane  at  the  nose  of  Spite,  who 
had  been  watching  his  conduct  with  an  air  of  extreme  sur 
prise,  not  un mingled  with  disapprobation.  The  attack  upon 
himself  was  carrying  the  joke  too  far  ;  and  after  several  in 
effectual  attempts  to  avoid  the  point  of  the  cane,  with  a  dis 
contented  grumble,  between  a  whine  and  a  growl,  the  dog 
retreated  under  an  old  side-board,  troubled  with  sad  misgiv 
ings  as  to  the  state  of  his  master's  intellect. 

*  Ha,  ha !  old  pup  !  you  do  n't  understand  the  science  of 
fence  ;  but  do  n't  take  it  hard.  I  Ve  got  a  drop  of  comfort 
in  store  for  you  ;  for  we  're  to  have  a  blow-out,  Spite  —  a 
real,  regular,  out-and-out  blow-out  —  ha!  ha!  And  you 
shall  be  under  the  table  during  the  whole  of  it,'  exclaimed 
Harson,  rubbing  his  hands  together,  and  chuckling  with  in 
describable  glee.  '  I  '11  speak  about  it  at  once.'  He  opened 
the  door  and  bawled  out,  in  a  voice  that  made  the  old  house 
shake  :  '  Hallo  there  !  Martha,  Martha,  come  here,  quick ! ' 

A  frantic  rush  across  the  kitchen  was  heard,  succeeded  by 
a  violent  clatter  of  slip-shod  shoes  through  the  entry  ;  for 


HARRY    II ARSON.  279 

Martha,  since  the  late  burglary,  being  haunted  in  idea  by 
shabby-looking  gentlemen  with  pistols  in  their  pockets,  and 
dark  lanterns  under  their  arras,  even  in  broad  daylight,  was 
on  the  look-out  for  emergencies,  and  had  every  thing  ready 
for  speedy  egress  to  the  street,  either  through  the  front  door 
or  the  cellar  window ;  and  the  tone  of  Harson's  voice,  being 
that  of  a  man  in  extremity,  had  such  an  effect  upon  her, 
that  when  she  reached  the  door,  she  could  only  gasp  out : 

'  Lor'  me  !  is  they  here  ag'in  ? ' 

'  Who  ? '  demanded  Harson,  not  a  little  surprised  at  the 
pale  face  of  his  housekeeper. 

4  The  robbers.' 

'  Poh,  poll,  nonsense  ! '  replied  he,  perhaps  a  little  annoyed 
by  the  reflection  that  his  own  manner  had  contributed  to 
her  mistake.  '  There  are  no  greater  thieves  here  than  our 
two  selves.  Perhaps  I  did  speak  rather  loud  ;  but  I  was  not 
thinking  of  what  I  was  about.  I  shall  have  some  friends  to 
dine  with  me  to-morrow,  and  you  must  get  things  ready  for 
them.  There  may  be  six,  or  eight,  or  a  dozen  ;  damme  !  I 
do  n't  know  how  many ;  but  have  enough  for  twenty  ;  d  'ye 
hear  ? ' 

Martha  curtseyed,  at  the  same  time  intimating,  in  a  faint 
tone,  that  she  did  hear  ;  for  she  had  not  entirely  recovered 
from  the  embarrassment  attendant  on  the  precipitancy  of 
her  advent  into  his  presence. 

'And  hark  ye  ! '  continued  Harson,  warming  as  he  went 
on  ;  '  Frank 's  the  very  Devil  and  all ;  we  '11  tap  the  cask  in 
the  corner  of  the  cellar.  It 's  prime  stuff,  which  I  Ve  kept 
for  some  great  occasion  ;  and  this  is  a  glorious  one.  And 
there 's  the  fat  saddle  of  mutton  hanging  in  the  store-room : 
we  '11  have  that.  It  '11  be  the  very  thing  for  the  half-starved 
boy  we  Ve  found ;  and  bring  down  a  bottle  or  two  of  the 
red-seal  wine;  that  of  1812.  It'll  wake  up  old  Dick 


280  HAR  R  Y     11 A  R  S  O  JV. 

Holmes,  and  make  him  ten  years  younger.  There 's  no  fear 
of  giving  him  the  gout.  Ha,  ha !  Dick  Holmes  with  the 
gout !  I 'd  like  to  see  that !'  exclaimed  he,  bursting  out  into 
a  broad  laugh  at  the  bare  idea.  'Well,  well,'  added  he, 
after  a  minute's  consideration,  '  you  may  go,  Martha.  Upon 
the  whole,  I  think  I  '11  get  the  things  myself,  and  go  to 
market  too.  There,  that 's  all.' 

Ilarson's  spirits,  however,  were  too  exuberant  to  permit 
him  to  remain  quiet ;  for  after  he  had  returned  to  the  room, 
drawn  a  chair  to  the  fire,  thrown  on  a  few  sticks  of  wood, 
seated  himself  with  a  foot  on  each  andiron,  folded  his  hands 
complacently  over  his  abdomen,  and  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the 
clock,  as  if  it  were  a  settled  thing  that  he  was  to  retain  this 
attitude  for  at  least  an  hour,  or  perhaps  a  year,  he  suddenly 
started  up,  thrust  his  thumbs  in  his  waistcoat  pockets,  and 
walked  up  and  down  the  room,  whistling  with  all  his  might ; 
but  even  by  whistling,  he  was  unable  to  work  off  his  surplus 
of  buoyancy.  It  was  evidently  gaining  ground  upon  him, 
do  what  he  would.  He  had  reached  his  present  state  by 
rapid  stages.  From  a  feeling  of  complacency  he  had  passed 
to  one  of  high  satisfaction ;  from  that  to  one  of  mirthfulness ; 
thence  he  advanced  rapidly  to  one  of  joviality ;  and  he  was 
now  fast  verging  upon  one  of  uproariousness.  Something 
must  be  done !  Excessive  steam  bursts  a  boiler ;  why  should 
not  a  similar  excess  of  delight  burst  a  man  ?  He  would  n't 
risk  it !  He  must  find  some  vent  for  it.  Ha !  ha  !  It  just 
occurred  to  him  that  the  widow  hadn't  heard  the  news. 
He  clapped  on  his  hat,  seized  his  cane,  and  sallied  out  into 
the  street,  in  his  haste  shutting  in  Spite,  who  had  started  to 
follow  him,  and  who  yelped  mournfully  for  an  hour  after 
ward,  to  the  great  dissatisfaction  of  a  thin  maiden  lady  who 
resided  next  door,  and  was  indulging  herself  in  a  nervous 
headache. 


HARRY    HARSON.  281 

There  must  have  been  something  in  the  expression  of 
Ilarson's  face  which  bore  the  stamp  of  his  feelings ;  for  as 
lie  trudged  along,  with  a  free,  independent  air,  striding  as 
lustily  as  if  only  twenty  instead  of  sixty  years  had  passed 
over  his  head,  and  as  if  every  sinew  were  as  well  strung,  and 
every  muscle  as  firm  as  ever ;  not  a  few  turned  to  take  a 
second  look  at  his  hearty,  honest  face ;  for  such  an  one  was 
not  often  met  with ;  and  as  they  did  so,  observed :  *  There 
goes  a  jolly  old  cock ! ' 

Rap !  rap !  rap !  went  the  head  of  his  cane  against  the 
door  of  Mrs.  Chowles's  blinking  old  house ;  but  he  was  too 
much  at  home  to  think  of  waiting  for  a  reply,  and  had  gone 
through  the  ceremony  only  for  the  purpose  of  removing 
from  his  entrance  all  appearance  of  being  underhanded  or 
surreptitious  ;  for  no  sooner  had  he  knocked  with  one  hand, 
than  with  the  other  he  raised  the  latch  and  walked  without 
hesitation  toward  the  widow's  little  parlor. 

'Ah,  ha!  my  visit  will  be  a  surprise  to  her! '  thought  he, 
as  he  took  the  knob  of  the  door  in  his  hand.  He  was  a  true 
prophet.  A  faint  scream  escaped  the  lady,  for  she  was 
opening  the  door  to  come  out  at  the  very  moment  he  was 
doing  the  same  to  enter;  and  as  the  movements  of  both 
were  rapid,  the  lady  precipitated  herself  into  his  arms,  which 
in  a  most  unexpected  manner  closed  about  her,  while  three 
hearty  smacks  were  deposited  on  her  forehead  before  she 
well  knew  where  she  was. 

*  Mr.  Harson  ! '  exclaimed  she,  extricating  herself,  though 
without  any  appearance  of  anger ;  '  is  it  you  ? ' 

'  By  Jove,  I  believe  it  is ! '  replied  Harson.  *  If  it  is  n't, 
it 's  some  gay  fellow  of  twenty  or  thereabout,  for  I  have  n't 
been  so  young  for  thirty  years  as  I  am  to-day.' 

Mrs.  Chowles  saw  from  his  manner,  and  knew  from  the 
unusual  hour  of  his  visit,  that  there  was  something  on  his 


282  HARRY   H ARSON. 

mind  which  he  had  come  to  communicate  ;  and  as  she  was 
not  of  that  class  who  take  pleasure  in  keeping  others  in 
suspense,  especially  when  she  was  liable  to  be  a  fellow- 
suft'erer,  she  drew  an  easy-chair  to  the  fire,  and  taking  a 
seat  in  another,  said :  *  Sit  down,  Harry.  Now,  what  is  it  ? 
what  ails  you  ? ' 

'What  ails  me  ? '  exclaimed  her  visitor,  turning  his  joyous 
countenance  to  her ;  '  look  at  me.  Do  n't  you  see  what  a 
boy  I've  grown;  how  the  wrinkles  have  gone  from  my 
cheeks,  and  how  clear  and  bright  my  eye  is !  Look  at 
me,  from  top  to  toe.  See  how  jolly  I  am,  and  hear  how 
loud  and  lusty  my  laugh  is :  Ha !  ha !  ha ! ' 

The  lady  did  look  at  him  ;  and  did  observe  all  the  pecu 
liarities  to  which  he  called  her  attention  ;  and  did  listen  to 
his  loud  ringing  laugh ;  and  then,  not  knowing  what  to 
make  of  him,  drew  away. 

'Aha !  widow,  you  're  frightened  at  finding  yourself  alone 
with  such  a  gay  fellow ! '  said  he,  laughing  still  more  merrily. 
4  Well,  well,  do  n't  be  alarmed,  for  I  'm  not  in  the  least 
dangerous;  and  to  tell  the  truth,  I  am  so  overjoyed  to-day 
that  I  may  be  indulged  in  a  little  foolery.  But  I'll  keep  you 
no  longer  in  suspense.  You  recollect  little  Annie,  the  little 
child  who  fled  to  my  house  for  protection  ? ' 

'Yes;  well?' 

'And  you  remember,  too,  how  often  I  told  you  that  that 
poor,  starved,  cast-off  little  thing  looked  to  me  like  one  born 
for  a  better  destiny,  and  like  one  who  had  seen  brighter 
times ;  and  how  often  you  ridiculed  me,  when  I  spoke  of  the 
faint  recollections  which  still  flitted  through  her  mind  of 
sunnier  hours ;  and  how  you  said  that  they  were  merely 
dreams,  and  that  I  was  almost  as  great  a  child  as  she  was, 
to  attach  any  weight  to  them ;  though  you  admitted  —  I  '11 
give  you  credit  for  that  —  you  did  admit  that  she  was  a 


HARRY    H ARSON.  283 

beautiful,  good  little  thing,  and  worthy  to  belong  to  the  best 
in  the  land.  And  when  I  said  that  Providence  never  would 
have  sent  such  a  frail  being  as  that  into  the  world  as  a 
beggar's  brat,  you  told  me,  on  the  contrary,  that  HE  might 
have  cast  the  lot  of  that  child,  frail,  feeble,  sickly  as  she  was, 
amid  the  very  outcasts  of  the  earth  for  wise  purposes  which 
we  never  could  fathom  ;  and  that  I  had  no  right  to  reason  in 
that  way  on  the  subject,  or  to  comment  on  His  doings.  And 
there,  widow,'  added  he  solemnly,  '  you  were  right,  and  I 
was  very  wrong.  But  I  was  correct  in  my  surmises  as  to 
the  child.  She  was  born  for  a  brighter  destiny  even  than 
my  humble  roof;  although,'  added  he,  his  voice  somewhat 
choked,  *  she  '11  never  be  where  they  '11  love  her  more.  But 
it 's  all  right,  and  she  must  go ;  for  her  parents  are  discovered. 
They  are  of  the  best  in  the  land ;  she  is  not  a  beggar's  brat. 
Her  brother,  too,  is  found ;  a  miserable,  thin,  hollow-eyed 
fellow  ;  but  we  '11  put  flesh  on  him.  This  is  not  all,'  added 
he  :  '  every  body  seems  in  luck  to-day.  Old  Jacob  Rhoneland 
has  escaped  scathless  out  of  Rust's  clutches.  Rust  himself 
is  on  his  way  to  the  Devil  post-haste,  and  there  is  nothing 
left  to  be  done  but  to  heal  the  breach  between  Jacob  and 
Ned.  This  matter  settled,  I  hope  to  see  Kate's  cheeks  once 
more  plump  and  round  and  rosy.  I  hope  not  only  to  see 
them,  but  to  kiss  them  too.  I  'in  not  too  old  to  fancy  such 
things,  I  can  tell  you.  And  now,  widow,  had  n't  I  a  right  to 
be  a  little  boisterous  ?  Ah  !  I  see  that  you  think  me  excus 
able  ;  but  bring  me  a  pipe,  and  I  '11  give  you  all  the  particu- 
}ars  over  that.  I  'm  a  little  thirsty,  too ;  for  I  Ve  already 
told  a  long  story,  and  have  yet  a  longer  one  to  tell.' 

The  pipe  was  produced ;  the  small  three-legged  table  was 
placed  at  his  side,  to  support  his  elbow  ;  and  Harson,  having 
carefully  lighted  his  pipe,  suffered  the  smoke  to  eddy  about 
his  nose,  while  he  arranged  his  ideas  and  cleared  his  throat; 


284  HARRY    EARS  ON. 

and  then  he  entered  into  a  full  and  faithful  detail  of  the  pro 
ceedings  which  had  been  taken  to  unmask  the  villany  of 
Rust,  and  the  various  steps  and  precautions  which  had 
finally  led  to  success. 

It  was  a  pleasant  sight  to  see  two  such  persons  as  Ilarson 
and  his  crony,  both  in  the  autumn  of  life,  but  with  the 
charities  of  the  heart  yet  green  and  unwithered,  talking  and 
gossipping  together,  with  eyes  bright  and  beaming  with 
mutual  admiration ;  each  fully  aware  of  the  foibles  of  the 
other,  but  carefully  indulgent  to  them ;  for  each  knew  that 
the  heart  of  the  other  was  an  odd  casket,  encasing  a  gem 
of  the  noblest  kind,  from  which  radiated  love,  charity,  and 
benevolence  to  man.  Oh  Harry,  Harry  !  how  joyously  and 
yet  mildly  you  looked  into  that  widow's  dark  liquid  eyes ; 
and  how  gently  and  confidingly  she  returned  that  look! 
What  a  risk  you  both  ran !  Had  you  and  she  been  but  a 
few  years  younger ;  had  either  of  you  cherished  a  whit  less 
tenderly  the  memory  of  those  who  had  once  been  all  in  all 
to  you,  and  whose  forms  were  slumbering  under  the  green 
sod,  that  widow  might  have  been  a  wife,  and  Harry  Ilarson 
no  longer  a  stout,  sturdy  old  bachelor ;  for  it  cannot  be  de 
nied  that  he  did  become  a  little  animated  as  he  proceeded  ; 
and  that  he  did  take  the  widow's  hand  in  his,  and  did 
squeeze  it,  perhaps  with  a  little  too  much  freedom,  and  did 
look  into  her  eyes,  as  if  he  loved  her  with  his  whole  soul 
and  body  into  the  bargain ;  nor  can  it  be  denied  that  she 
was  pleased  with  these  tokens  of  esteem,  or  love,  or  friend 
ship,  or  whatever  else  she  might  have  thought  them  ;  for  she 
did  not  withdraw  her  hand,  and  she  smiled  when  he  smiled ; 
and  there  certainly  was  a  strong  sympathy  apparent  in  their 
looks ;  and  even  when  in  the  fervor  of  his  feelings  he  held 
his  pipe  between  his  teeth  to  free  the  hand  which  held  it, 
and  deliberately  squeezed  loth  of  her  hands  in  his,  still  she 


JARRY    HARSON.  285 

did  not  appear  embarrassed  nor  vexed ;  and  when  lie  had 
released  it,  quietly  went  on  with  her  sewing,  as  composedly 
as  if  what  he  had  just  done  was  quite  usual,  and  a  matter 
of  course. 

'And  now,  Mrs.  Chowles,'  said  Harson,  as  he  concluded 
his  narrative ;  *  upon  the  strength  of  our  success  we  are  to 
have  a  jollification  to-morrow  at  my  house ;  and  we  '11  have 
Dick  Holmes  there,  and  Kate^and  Ned  Somers,  and  Kate's 
father.  He  must  make  up  with  Ned  then,  if  not  before. 
lie  knows  he  was  wrong,  and  he  must  give  up.' 

'But  will  he?'  inquired  the  widow,  anxiously.  'You 
know  Jacob's  a  wrong-headed  old  man  in  some  things. 
Will  he  ? ' 

'  Won't  he? '  ejaculated  Harson,  with  a  peculiar  wink  and 
nod  of  satisfaction,  as  if  he  were  on  excellent  terms  with 
himself,  and  understood  what  he  was  about  perfectly  well. 
'  I  '11  tell  you  what  it  is,'  added  he,  in  a  more  grave  tone ; 
'  Jacob  has  had  his  own  way,  or  rather  Michael  Rust's  way, 
in  this  matter,  too  long.  He  shall  have  it  no  longer.  He 
shall  not  break  his  child's  heart.  I  will  not  permit  it.'  He 
took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  slapped  his  knee  eraphat- 
ically.  'Have  you  observed  no  change  in  the  girl  since 
then  ?  If  you  have  not,  /  have.  She  is  still  the  same 
devoted,  affectionate  child  to  that  warped  old  man  that  she 
always  was ;  but  look  at  her  face  and  form,  and  listen  to  her 
voice.  She  was  once  the  gayest,  merriest  little  creature  that 
ever  lived.  It  threw  sunshine  into  one's  heart  only  to  look 
at  her ;  and  when  she  spoke,  did  you  ever  hear  a  bird  whose 
voice  was  half  so  joyous  ?  Poor  thing !  when  she  laughs 
now,  it  makes  my  heart  ache.  It 's  like  the  smile  of  one 
dying,  when  he  is  trying  to  whisper  hope  to  those  who  are 
weeping  over  his  death-bed.  God  bless  her!  and  how  should 
it  be  otherwise  ?  But  no  matter  ;  the  worst  is  past.  And 


286  HARRY    H ARSON. 

now,'  said  he,  '  I  must  be  gone.  I  came  here  to  tell  you  the 
*tory,  and  to  ask  you  to  dine  with  us ;  and  between  you  and 
me,  perhaps  you  had  better  come  early  in  the  day,  and  keep 
an  eye  over  Martha ;  for  the  idea  of  a  dinner-party  has  quite 
frightened  her ;  and  there  are  so  many  little  things  to  be 
done,  which  I  know  nothing  about,  and  which  you  under 
stand,  and  without  which  we  should  have  every  thing 
helter-skelter,  that  you  must  come,  or  I  '11  never  forgive  you.' 
Harry  made  this  last  menace  with  so  fierce  an  air,  and  his 
mouth  pursed  up  in  so  ferocious  a  manner,  although  his  eyes 
were  dancing  with  fun,  that  the  lady  consented  at  once. 

'It's  well  for  you  that  you  did,'  said  Harson,  rising  and 
putting  on  his  hat ;  *  if  you  had  n't,  I  do  n't  know  what  I 
should  have  done ;  but  it  would  have  been  something  dread 
ful.  I  'm  a  terrible  fellow  when  fairly  roused.'  Then  shak 
ing  the  lady's  hand  as  if  he  intended  to  dislocate  her  shoul 
der,  he  put  his  cane  under  his  arm  and  went  out. 

'  Ha  !  ha !  old  Jacob  !  you  and  I  must  now  have  a  tussle. 
Ha!  ha!'  exclaimed  he,  still  carrying  his  cane  under  his 
arm,  and  his  hands  under  his  coat  tails,  '  you  must  hear  a 
little  of  what  I  think.  A  few  words  of  wholesome  advice 
will  do  you  no  harm,  and  will  rub  off  the  rust  that  old  age 
has  fastened  upon  you.' 

With  this  hostile  resolution  upon  his  tongue,  the  old  man 
made  the  best  of  his  way  to  Rhoneland's  house.  Jacob  was 
there,  dozing  in  his  chair,  with  his  white  locks  hanging 
loosely  over  his  shoulders ;  and  Kate  was  sitting  at  his  side, 
engaged  in  sewing.  She  was  paler  than  usual ;  and  there 
was  a  nervous  restlessness  in  her  manner,  which  did  not 
escape  the  quick  glance  of  Harson.  He  thought,  too,  that 
she  seemed  somewhat  thinner  than  she  was  wont  to  be.  It 
might  be  mere  suspicion,  but  still  he  thought  so. 


HARRY   HARSON.  287 

'It's  too  bad,'  muttered  he;  'but  I'll  set  matters  right, 
or  my  name 's  not  Harry  Harson.' 

There  was  something  in  the  hearty  greeting  of  the  old 
fellow,  as  he  took  her  hands  in  his  and  called  her  his  bright- 
eyed  girl,  so  full  of  happiness,  that  it  was  impossible  not  to 
catch  the  same  feeling  as  he  spoke ;  and  even  Jacob,  as  he 
felt  the  cordial  grasp  of  his  hand,  assured  himself,  and 
assumed  something  like  a  cheerful  smile. 

'  Well,  Kate,'  said  Harson,  drawing  a  chair  between  her 
and  her  father ;  *  I  've  news  for  you  ;  and  for  you  too,  my 
old  fellow  saia  ne,  turning  to  Rhoneland ;  *  we  Ve  used 
Rust  up 

Jacob  stareu.  a  him,  smiled  faintly  and  half  doubtfully, 
and  then  sank  back  in  his  chair  without  speaking. 

*  Do  you  hear  me  ? '  exclaimed  Harson,  seizing  him  by  the 
collar  and  shaking  him;  'do  you  hear  me?  Why  don't 
you  jump  up  and  hurrah  at  the  downfall  of  such  a  scoun 
drel  1  Ha !  ha !  We  've  been  on  his  track  for  months ; 
but  we  've  run  him  down  at  last ;  and  then  he  made  a  vir 
tue  of  necessity,  and  told  all  —  all  about  the  children,  and 
about  you,  and  about  Ned ;  all  lies,  ail  lies  —  every  word  of 
them.  Ned  he  swore  was  as  honest  a  fellow  as  ever  lived, 
or  something  to  that  effect.  You,  he  admitted,  had  com 
mitted  no  forgery ;  not  a  word  of  truth  in  it ;  but  all  in 
vented,  to  force  you  to  consent  to  his  marriage  with  my  own 
little  sweet-heart,  Kate.  God  bless  me !  how  near  I  was 
to  losing  her!  Perhaps  you  don't  know  that  I  intend 
marrying  her  myself?  Why  don't  you  get  up  now,  and 
hurrah  ?  Confound  it,  I  never  saw  such  people  in  all  my 
life.  Hallo  !  by  Jove  !  Kate,  quick  !  some  water!  I  swear, 
the  old  fellow  has  fainted  ! ' 

As  he  spoke,  Rhoneland's  head  fell  back,  and  the  color 
forsook  his  cheeks.  Harson  caught  him,  while  Kate  ran  for 


288  HARRY    H ARSON. 

water  and  brandy,  a  small  quantity  of  which  being  poured 
into  his  mouth,  soon  brought  him  to  himself.  Having  waited 
until  he  was  sufficiently  composed  to  listen,  Harson  com 
menced  from  the  beginning  of  his  story,  and  detailed  to  both 
of  his  listeners  much  that  they  already  knew,  and  not  a  little 
which  they  had  never  dreamed  of;  the  causes  which  had 
first  led  to  the  enmity  between  Grosket  and  Rust,  and  then, 
step  by  step,  what  they  had  done  to  detect  and  bring  to 
light  his  villany.  *  Rust  manoeuvred  well  and  skilfully,'  said 
he,  '  for  he  was  a  bold,  reckless  man,  who  stuck  at  nothing, 
and  fought  to  the  last.  It  is  doubtful  whether  he  would 
not  have  got  the  better  of  us  in  the  ena,  naa  not  a  suacien 
misfortune  fallen  upon  him,  which  prostrated  his  energies 
and  broke  his  hard  heart.  After  that,  be  wa»  T$>  ^on^er  the 
same  man;  but  confessed  every  thing,  and,  among  other 
things,  that  it  had  been  his  intention  to  become  the  husband 
of  Kate,  to  obtain  the  wealth  which  he  supposed  you  to 
possess ;  and  finding  that  you  were  opposed  to  it,  he  tried  the 
effect  of  a  display  of  wealth  upon  you.  This  failed.  Then 
he  resolved  to  see  what  fear  could  do ;  and  threatened  to 
have  you  indicted  for  forgery  ;  and  admitting  that  you  were 
innocent,  he  yet  showed  so  clearly  how  he  could  support 
his  charge,  and  succeed  in  blasting  your  character,  that  you 
shrank  from  collision  with  him  :  still  you  would  not  consent 
to  sacrifice  your  child,  although  you  dared  not  give  him  such 
an  answer  as  would  shut  out  all  hope.  There  was  another 
obstacle  in  his  way.  This  was  a  certain  young  fellow  who, 
as  well  as  Rust,  had  an  eye  on  Kate,  and  whom,  perhaps, 
Kate  did  not  think  the  worst  man  in  the  world.  Rust  de 
termined  to  be  rid  of  him ;  so  he  basely  slandered  him  to 
you ;  and  you,  not  suspecting  Rust's  veracity,  as  the  know 
ledge  which  you  already  had  of  his  character  should  have 
induced  you  to  do,  rashly  forbade  his  rival  the  house  ;  and, 


HARRY    H ARSON.  289 

I  am  sorry  to  say,  added  harsh  words  to  the  wrong  which 
you  were  already  committing.  I  need  not  tell  you  who  that 
young  man  was.  He  came  to  me  shortly  afterward,  and 
told  ine  what  had  occurred.  He  's  a  noble  fellow,  for  not 
one  hard  word  or  epithet  did  he  breathe  against  you.  He 
said  he  was  aware  that  for  a  long  time  back  some  person  had 
been  endeavoring  to  poison  your  mind  against  him.  He  had 
observed  it  in  the  gradual  change  of  your  manner,  and  in 
your  avoiding  his  society.  He  had  hoped,  he  said,  that  in 
time,  when  you  found  out  that  his  character  was  fair  and 
irreproachable,  these  hard  feelings  would  wear  off,  and  you 
could  again  meet  as  heretofore.  But  this  was  not  to  be. 
Instead  of  diminishing,  your  hostility  to  him  increased,  until 
one  day  when  he  was  in  your  own  house,  you  used  language 
to  him  which  left  him  no  alternative  but  to  quit  it  for  ever. 
The  charges  which  you  made  against  him  were  very  grave, 
Jacob,  and  very  vile  ;  and  when  you  made  them,  you  had  no 
right  to  withhold  the  name  of  the  person  on  whose  authority 
you  accused  him ;  but  you  did ;  and  although  Ned  might 
and  did  suspect  Michael  Rust  to  be  the  kind  friend  to 
whom  he  owed  your  ill-will,  yet  he  had  no  proof  of  it 
that  would  justify  him  in  calling  him  to  account.  Ned 
had  a  hard  task  before  him ;  for  the  charge  you  made 
against  him  was  that  of  harboring  evil  thoughts  and  of 
cherishing  unfair  designs  against  your  child.  It  was  a 
serious  charge,  and  one  that  he  could  not  refute ;  for  a 
man's  thoughts  are  not  susceptible  of  proof;  all  that  he  can 
do  in  justification,  is  to  point  to  his  past  life  and  say  : 
*  Judge  by  that ; '  and  unless  Ned  could  impeach  the  character 
of  his  traducer,  of  whom  he  was  then  ignorant,  he  had 
no  alternative  but  to  submit,  and  to  hope  that  time  would 
exculpate  him.  Now,  Jacob,  even  supposing  Rust  had 
not  confessed  that  the  tales  which  he  had  told  you 
13 


290  HARRY    H ARSON. 

respecting  Ned  were  calumnies,  is  there  any  thing  in 
Ned's  past  life  to  justify  the  suspicion  you  have  cherished 
against  him?  Answer  candidly,  and  you  will  answer 
'  No.'  Rust's  motive  was  clear  enough ;  he  feared  Somers, 
and  wished  to  drive  from  you  one  who  might  be  a 
friend  in  time  of  need,  and  who  might  one  day  stand  as  a 
shield  between  you  and  his  dark  purposes.  Come,  Jacob, 
Rust  has  confessed  all ;  what  he  did,  what  his  motives 
were ;  and  now  tell  me  whether  you  cannot  say,  from  the 
bottom  of  your  heart,  '  Ned  Somers,  I  have  wronged 
you?" 

He  paused,  and  looked  earnestly  at  Rhoneland,  while 
every  feature  glowed  with  the  fervor  of  his  feelings.  '  Come, 
Jacob,  what  do  you  say  ? ' 

There  was  one  other  person,  too,  who  leaned  forward  to 
catch  the  reply  ;  but  Rhoneland  answered  : 

4  She 's  my  only  child,  and  she  's  very  dear  to  me.  It 
was  a  cruel  suspicion,  and  perhaps  I  did  act  hastily.  I  will 
not  say  that  I  did  not,  for  I  was  greatly  excited,  and  said 
many  things  that  I  have  since  forgotten.  But  it  was  better 
that  he  should  go.  Was  n't  it,  Kate  ? ' 

He  turned  to  his  daughter,  took  her  hand,  and  repeated 
his  question  :  '  Was  n't  it  better  that  he  should  keep  away, 
Kate  ? ' 

Kate's  voice  trembled  as  she  asked  :  '  What  harm  did  he 
do,  father,  in  coming  here  ?  If  his  character  is  fair,  why 
should  he  not  come  ? ' 

Her  father  eyed  her  with  an  uneasy  look.  In  truth,  he 
feared  Ned's  presence  ;  for  he  knew  that  he  loved  Kate,  and 
that  she  reciprocated  the  feeling;  and  with  the  selfishness 
which  old  age  sometimes  brings  with  it,  he  was  unwilling 
that  she  should  care  for  another  than  himself,  or  that  another 
should  have  a  claim  upon  her.  At  last  he  replied,  rather 


HARRY    BARS  ON.  291 

sharply :  '  The*  reason  why  he  should  not  come  is,  because  i 
do  n't  want  him.' 

Kate  drew  back,  and  said  not  another  word  ;  but  Harson 
saw  from  her  compressed  lip  that  the  reply  had  cut  deeply ; 
and  catching  her  eye,  he  made  a  sign  to  her  to  leave  them. 
Kate  took  the  hint,  and  went  out ;  and  Harson,  after  looking 
Rhoneland  steadily  in  the  face  for  some  time,  said  :  '  Jacob, 
you  have  given  your  reason  why  Ned  Somers  should  not 
come  here.  It 's  a  very  poor  one,  and  not  such  as  I  ex 
pected.  Now,  I'll  give  you  mine  why  he  should:  Kate 
loves  him,  and  he  loves  her.' 

Jacob  knit  his  brows,  but  made  no  reply. 

'And  let  me  tell  you,  too,  that  unless  you  do  consent,  your 
child  will  die.  I  'm  in  earnest.  There  are  some  who  fall  in 
love,  as  they  call  it,  a  hundred  times  ;  bestowing  their  affec 
tions,  such  as  they  are,  sometimes  on  one,  sometimes  on 
another ;  until  at  last  perhaps  the  owner  of  a  handsome  face 
offers  his  hand,  and  gets  in  return  the  tattered  thing  they 
call  their  heart.  God  help  me !  this  is  called  love.  But 
thank  God,  for  the  credit  of  human  nature,  there  are  others 
who  love  as  they  should  —  purely,  nobly,  with  their  whole 
soul.  These  love  once,  and  only  once  ;  and  woe  to  the  man 
who  unwisely,  or  for  his  own  selfish  ends,  crosses  them ! 
The  siu  of  a  broken  heart  too  often  lies  at  his  door.  Jacob, 
you  're  an  old  man ;  but  you  are  not  too  old  to  have  for 
gotten  the  wife  who  once  was  yours.  You  loved  her  well, 
my  dear  old  fellow,  I  know  it,'  said  he,  taking  his  hand. 
*  She  deserved  it  too.  Kate  is  very  like  her.  What  would 
have  been  your  feelings,  had  any  one  stepped  in  between  you 
and  her  ? ' 

Rhoneland  grew  pale,  and  the  tears  came  in  his  eyes. 

'  Come,  come,  Jacob,  I  '11  not  press  the  matter  now ;  but 
you  must  reflect  on  what  I  've  said ;  and  you  must  not  forget 


292  HARRY    EAR  SON. 

how  much  Kate  has  at  stake.  Ned 's  a  glorious  fellow,  and 
will  make  your  house  very  cheery.' 

'  Well,  I  '11  think  of  it,1  replied  Rhoneland,  after  a  short 
pause. 

lDo;  that's  a  good  fellow.  I'll  consider  it  a  personal 
favor ;  and  I  do  think  you  owe  me  something  for  the  pains 
I  Ve  taken  in  aiding  to  get  you  rid  of  that  rascal  Rust.' 

*  I  do  indeed  owe  you  much,'  replied  Rhoneland,  earnestly, 
4  and  I  am  sincerely  grateful.' 

*  Well,  well,  we  won't  speak  of  that ;  only  reflect  on  what 
I  have  just  said ;  and  by  the  way,  added  he,  rising  to  go, 
'you  must  oblige  me  in  another  matter.      Two  or  three 
friends  are  to  dine  with  me  to-morrow ;  you  and  Kate  must 
be  of  the  party.' 

'  We  will,'  was  the  reply. 

*  Good  !    Now  go  up  stairs  and  comfort  Kate.' 


HARRY    H ARSON.  293 


CHAPTER     XXV. 

A  BRIGHT  glowing  day  was  the  following  one,  the  day  of 
the  dinner-party ;  and  right  gladly  did  the  golden  sun  beam 
out  from  the  deep  fathomless  sky,  as  if  from  his  lofty  look 
out  he  were  aware  of  what  was  going  on  in  this  world  below, 
and  rejoiced  in  the  failure  of  the  evil  machinations  which 
had  been  so  long  disturbing  the  tranquillity  of  the  worthy 
individuals  who  have  figured  in  this  history.  And  fortunate 
it  was  that  neither  clouds  nor  rain  obscured  his  face  ;  for  had 
the  latter  been  added  to  the  cares  which  the  approaching 
dinner-party  had  already  accumulated  upon  the  culinary 
department  of  Harson's  household,  the  housekeeper  in  the  tall 
cap  with  stiff  ribbons  would  have  gone  stark-mad.  Mise 
rable  woman  !  how  she  worked  and  fumed,  and  panted  and 
tugged,  and  kneaded  and  rolled,  and  stuffed  and  seasoned,  and 
skewered  and  basted  and  beat,  during  that  day !  From  soup 
to  dessert,  and  from  dessert  to  soup,  over  and  over  again,  she 
toiled ;  fish,  flesh,  fowl,  vegetables,  gravies,  were  all  mingled 
in  her  head  helter-skelter.  She  had  dreamed  of  nothing  else 
during  the  whole  of  the  previous  night,  excepting  a  short 
interlude  in  the  aforesaid  dream,  when  she  was  night-mared 
by  a  fat  pig,  bestrode  by  a  half-starved  boy,  who  was  all 
eyes.  And  now,  as  the  day  waned  and  the  hour  of  the  din 
ner  approached,  her  ferment  increased,  until,  to  use  a  meta 
phor,  she  had  worked  herself  up  into  a  mental  lather.  Her 
voice  was  in  every  quarter,  and  so  was  her  quick,  hurried 
step.  She  was  in  the  entry,  up  stairs,  in  the  pantry,  in  the 
kitchen,  and  in  the  cellar ;  at  the  street-door,  giving  orders  to 


294  HARRY    EARS  ON. 

the  grocer's  dirty  boy  to  bring  the  cinnamon  and  alspice, 
and  not  to  forget  the  sugar  and  butter,  and  to  be  sure  to 
recollect  the  anchovies  and  pickles.  The  next  moment  she 
was  scolding  the  butcher,  because  he  had  come  late  with  the 
chops  and  cutlets;  and  every  five  minutes  she  thrust  her 
head  into  the  room  to  look  at  the  clock,  lest  Time  should 
steal  a  march  upon  her.  Eleven,  twelve,  one,  two  o'clock. 
The  tumult  increased.  Mrs.  Chowles,  punctual  to  her  pro 
mise,  made  her  appearance ;  forthwith  dived  into  the  kitchen, 
and  did  not  emerge  until  dinner-time.  The  only  person 
utterly  unmoved  was  Harson,  who  had  attended  to  his  part 
of  the  business  by  looking  after  the  wine,  and  who  now  sat 
with  his  feet  to  the  fire,  resolved  to  trouble  his  head  about 
nothing,  and  apparently  more  asleep  than  awake.  At  times, 
however,  he  rose  and  went  to  one  corner  of  the  room,  where 
a  small  boy,  who  seemed  to  be  worn  down  by  suffering,  lay 
coiled  up  and  sound  asleep  on  a  chair-cushion.  The  old 
man  bent  over  him,  gently  parted  the  hair  from  his  fore 
head,  and  then  rising  up,  somewhat  red  in  the  face  from  the 
exertion,  rubbed  his  hands  one  over  the  other  by  way  of 
indicating  that  all  was  as  it  should  be  ;  stole  back  to  his  seat 
on  tiptoe,  lest  he  should  awaken  him,  and  forthwith  re 
lapsed  into  his  former  state  of  dreamy  abstraction.  Nothing 
could  arouse  him ;  not  even  the  housekeeper  when  she 
dashed  into  the  room  with  a  face  at  roasting-heat,  and  de 
manded  the  key  of  the  wine-cellar.  It  was  handed  to  her 
mechanically,  and  mechanically  pocketed  when  she  brought 
it  back. 

But  the  hour  of  dinner  drew  near  ;  and  a  smell  began  to 
pervade  the  house  which  aroused  Harson  at  last.  He  sat  up 
in  his  chair  and  smacked  his  lips ;  and  Spite,  who  for  an  undue 
curiosity  as  to  the  contents  of  a  small  pasty,  exhibited  early 
in  the  day,  had  been  escorted  into  the  room  by  the  house- 


HARRY    H ARSON.  295 

keeper,  with  a  broomstick  in  his  suite,  sat  under  the  same 
chair,  licking  his  lips  and  slavering  profusely. 

Again  the  red  face  of  the  housekeeper  was  projected  into 
the  room,  and  as  instantly  withdrawn.  It  wanted  half  an 
hour  to  the  time.  In  and  out  again  ;  it  wanted  twenty-five 
minutes.  In  and  out  again  ;  twenty  minutes.  The  matter 
was  growing  serious,  and  there  was  something  frantic  in  her 
looks.  But  this  time  Harson  caught  her,  and  told  her  that 
it  was  time  to  put  an  end  to  that  performance,  as  he  expect 
ed  his  friends  every  minute ;  that  she  must  guess  as  to  the 
time ;  and  that  he  would  ring  when  she  was  to  serve  the 
dinner. 

A  rap  at  the  door !  and  before  it  could  be  answered,  a 
heavy  step  crossed  the  ante-chamber. 

'  There 's  Frank,'  said  Harson,  rising  and  facing  the  door ; 
and  in  came  the  Doctor.  But  he  was  not  alone  ;  for  close 
behind  him  followed  Ned  Somers,  dressed  in  his  best.  Harry 
shook  hands  with  them ;  but  before  he  had  time  to  do  more 
than  that,  Jacob  Rhoneland  entered  with  Kate  on  his  arm, 
looking  very  rosy  from  her  walk. 

What  could  it  be  that  caused  Ned's  heart  to  flounce  and 
dance  about  as  wildly  as  a  caged  bird  ;  and  his  cheek  to 
grow  at  first  pale,  and  then  burning  hot ;  and  his  lips  to 
quiver,  and  his  voice  to  tremble  so  that  he  could  scarcely 
speak,  and  for  a  moment  was  unable  even  to  tell  Kate  that 
he  was  glad  to  see  her  ?  Whatever  the  complaint  was,  it 
was  infectious ;  for  Kate's  heart  certainly  did  beat  very  rap 
idly;  and  her  color  went  and  came,  until  it  settled  into  a 
deep  burning  blush,  as  she  turned  and  saw  Ned  there,  looking 
at  her  as  if  he  had  eyes  for  nothing  else. 

*  Good-morning,  Mr.  Somers,'  said  she  at  last,  in  a  tone 
that  was  neither  firm  nor  clear. 

'  Call  me  Ned,  Kate,'  said  he  in  a  low  voice  ;  'don't  say 


296  HARRY    HARSOX. 

Mr.  Soraers.  Won't  you  shake  hands  with  me  ?  There  can 
be  no  harm  in  that.'  He  extended  his  hand;  she  placed 
hers  in  it,  and  at  the  same  time  whispered  in  his  ear,  (for 
Harry,  seeing  that  there  was  some  by-play  going  on,  kept 
Jacob  busy,)  '  Speak  to  father  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 
I  think  he 's  inclined  to  make  up.  Do,  Ned.' 

Turning  from  him,  she  commenced  talking  to  the  Doctor, 
while  Somers,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  went  up  to  the 
old  man  and  offered  his  hand. 

Rhoneland  hesitated,  for  he  experienced  the  reluctance 
which  old  age  always  evinces  to  succumb  to  those  younger 
in  years ;  and  it  was  not  very  pleasant  to  admit  that  his 
conduct  toward  Ned  had  been  wrong.  But  there  was  some 
thing  in  the  expression  of  Ned's  face,  and  even  in  the 
way  in  which  he  offered  his  hand,  which  showed  that  the 
past  was  forgiven.;  and  besides  that,  what  had  already  hap 
pened  could  not  be  mended  by  holding  out;  so  Jacob 
grasped  his  hand,  and  said  frankly  : 

*  Ned,  my  young  friend,  I  wronged  thee  sadly.  I  hope 
you  will  pardon  it.' 

'  That 's  right,  Jacob !  Spoken  like  a  whole-hearted  old 
fellow,  as  you  are!'  exclaimed  Harson,  patting  him  on  the 
shoulder.  '  To  be  sure  he  will  forgive  you,  and  thank  you 
for  the  chance.  If  he  does  n't,  he 's  not  what  I  take  him  to 
be.  Do  n't  you  pardon  him  ? '  demanded  he,  turning  to 
Somers,  and  at  the  same  time  casting  a  quizzical  look  in  the 
direction  of  Kate. 

Ned  laughed;  said  something  about  pardon  being  un 
necessary,  where  no  offence  had  been  taken ;  and  then  com 
menced  talking  about  indifferent  matters. 

Presently  Holmes  came  in ;  and  after  him,  Grosket,  and 
one  or  two  cronies  of  Harson's  ;  and  then  the  little  girl ;  so 
that  the  room  became  quite  full.  The  boy  too,  aroused  by 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  297 

the  noiwe  of  talking,  awoke ;  stared  wildly  around  him,  and, 
though  a  boy  of  genteel  lineage,  evinced  a  great  distaste  to 
mingling  in  society,  and  fought  manfully  to  retain  his 
position  in  the  corner,  when  Harson  attempted  to  lead  him 
out.  His  sister  endeavored,  in  an  undertone,  to  impress 
upon  him  the  propriety  of  adapting  his  manners  to  the 
change  in  his  situation ;  but  it  must  be  confessed  that  her 
success  was  but  indifferent ;  and  it  is  a  matter  of  some  doubt 
whether  he  would  ever  have  emerged,  had  not  a  tall,  awk 
ward  boy,  (a  second  cousin  of  the  housekeeper,  and  appren 
ticed  to  a  tailor,)  who  had  been  borrowed  to  officiate  as 
waiter  on  this  eventful  occasion,  thrust  his  head  in  the  door 
and  remarked,  *  Cousin  Martha  says  you  may  come  to  din 
ner  just  as  quick  as  you  like,'  and  forthwith  disappeared, 
slamming  the  door  after  him,  and  clattering  across  the  entry 
as  if  shod  with  paving-stones. 

This  aroused  the  company ;  and  this  too  emboldened  the 
small  boy,  who,  being  restrained  by  his  sister  from  rushing 
into  the  room  before  any  one  else,  nevertheless  crowded  in, 
and  secured  a  seat  at  the  table,  opposite  the  best  dish. 

What  a  sight !  A  table  loaded  with  fish  and  flesh  and 
fowl ;  glittering  and  glowing  with  cleanliness  ;  linen  as  white 
as  snow,  and  plates  and  dishes  that  glistened  and  shone  until 
you  could  see  your  face  in  them,  while  the  steam  alone 
which  rose  from  each  of  them  might  have  made  a  lean  man 
fat ;  and  then,  there  were  the  decanters  too,  in  which  the 
ruby  wine  sparkled,  until  it  made  even  Dick  Holmes  smack 
his  lips. 

*  Aha ! '  ejaculated  one  of  the  neighbors,  a  thin,  hungry 
fellow,  with  large  eyes ;  '  aha ! '  And  he  snuffed  up  the 
dinner  as  if  he  intended  to  appropriate  it  all,  and  as  if  he 
intended  his  nose  to  be  the  only  member  destined  to  play 
a  part  there. 

13* 


298  HARRY    H ARSON. 

Harry  paused  at  the  head  of  his  table,  and  said  a 
short  grace ;  and  then  seizing  a  carving-knife,  he  plunged 
it  forthwith  into  the  fat  saddle;  and  as  he  drew  the 
knife  along  the  bone,  and  cut  out  the  long  strips,  the 
stearn  and  savor  filling  the  room,  it  was  to  be  feared  that 
the  thin  neighbor  would  have  gone  beside  himself,  lest 
his  favorite  piece  should  be  given  to  some  one  else  before 
his  turn  came.  But  such  a  dinner  as  graced  that  table 
is  a  thing  to  be  eaten,  not  spoken  of;  and  so  thought  the 
small  boy,  who,  notwithstanding  his  genteel  extraction, 
brought  with  him  the  appetite  which  he  had  acquired  by 
education.  A  dreadful  havoc  he  made  in  that  fat  saddle ! 
It  was  labor  lost  for  his  sister  to  kick  and  pinch  him  under 
the  table,  in  hopes  of  checking  his  course.  He  returned  the 
kicks,  but  his  onward  course  was  unaltered.  What  eyes 
he  had  for  the  meats  and  gravies !  what  a  deaf  ear  he  turned 
to  all  invitations  to  waste  his  energies  on  bread  and  vege 
tables,  or  trifles  of  that  sort !  His  appetite,  though  belong 
ing  to  a  child,  was  full-grown,  and  needed  no  assistance. 
All  that  he  required  was  quantity  —  and  he  got  it. 

'Help  yourself,  my  son,'  said  Harson,  actually  growing 
hungry  by  seeing  the  child  eat.  '  Do  n't  spare  any  thing.' 

The  boy  looked  up  at  him,  over  a  bone  which  he  was 
picking,  and  said  nothing. 

The  first  course  went  off,  and  so  did  a  second  and  third. 
Martha  had  excelled  herself.  Every  thing  was  praised  ;  and 
at  every  fresh  eulogy,  the  tall  boy  darted  to  the  kitchen  to 
communicate  the  intelligence  to  his  aunt.  How  he  enjoyed 
that  party !  how  he  skimmed  his  fingers  round  the  plates, 
as  he  took  them  through  the  entry ;  sucking  the  ends  of 
them  so  loudly,  that  his  aunt  thought  that  the  corks  were 
flying  out  of  the  porter-bottles !  He  was  perfectly  happy. 

It  was  remarked  that,  when  the  dinner  was  over,  some  of 


HARRY    H ARSON.  299 

the  guests  were  uncommonly  mellow ;  and  it_is  credibly 
asserted  that  Dick  Holmes,  who  had  spent  his  life  among 
parchment  and  cobwebs,  had  during  the  meal  buried  his 
mouth  in  the  bosom  of  his  waistcoat,  and  had  there  been 
heard  confidentially  singing  to  himself  a  short  song  of  an 
Anacreontic  character.  But  be  that  as  it  may,  when  he 
rose  from  the  table,  his  eye  certainly  was  not  a  little  lively, 
and  his  spirits  were  high.  Nor  was  there  any  flagging  among 
the  rest;  for  whether  the  jests  were  good  or  bad,  or  the 
songs  poor,  or  the  conversation  common-place,  certain  it  is, 
that  a  more  jovial  set  had  never  met.  Every  one  seemed  to 
have  been  placed  beside  the  person  who  suited  him ;  Harry 
sat  with  Jacob  on  one  side  of  him,  and  the  widow  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  with  the  Doctor  at  her  right  hand ;  and 
Dick  Holmes  and  Grosket  together ;  and  Ned  and  Kate,  so 
close  that  their  elbows  touched ;  and  Annie  beside  her 
brother ;  and  her  brother,  although  somewhat  incommoded 
by  his  sister,  directly  opposite  the  best  dish  on  the  table. 
And  then  the  one  or  two  neighbors,  who  knew  no  one  ex 
cept  each  other,  seated  in  a  knot,  contrived  to  grow  moist 
and  merry  because  the  others  did,  and  laughed  because 
Harry  did.  Choice  spirits !  who  could  split  their  very  sides, 
without  a  joke  to  abet  them  in  it ;  just  the  fellows  to  help 
out  a  dinner-party. 

When  they  separated,  it  was  late  at  night.  The  Doctor 
gallantly  volunteered  to  escort  the  widow  to  her  abode, 
which  offer  was  accepted  without  hesitation.  Harry  re 
marked  that,  as  it  was  a  fine  night,  he  thought  he  would 
walk  too. 

'  Come,  Jacob,  you  and  I  will  go  together,'  said  he,  taking 
the  old  man  by  the  arm ;  '  and  Ned,  you  look  after  Kate. 
No  grumbling,  but  make  yourself  useful.'  Saying  this,  he 
trudged  rapidly  on,  dragging  the  old  man  with  him. 


300  HARRY    H ARSON. 

What  passed  between  him  and  Jacob,  or  what  took  place 
between  Ned  and  Kate,  I  cannot  say ;  but  they  certainly 
were  the  two  tardiest  people  that  ever  walked  ;  for  long  after 
Harson  and  Rhoneland  had  reached  the  end  of  their  journey, 
and  stood  waiting  in  front  of  Rhoneland's  door,  they  were 
not  in  sight ;  and  when  they  did  at  last  appear,  it  seemed  a 
perfect  eternity  before  they  were  within  calling  distance; 
and  then  even  longer  before  they  reached  the  door.  And 
although,  from  the  pace  at  which  they  had  come,  it  might 
have  been  argued  that  one  or  the  other  of  them  was  labor 
ing  under  extreme  debility  or  fatigue,  yet  it  was  a  remark 
able  fact,  that  the  looks  of  neither  justified  such  a  con 
clusion. 

'  What  idlers  you  are ! '  exclaimed  Harry,  as  they  came 
up.  '  As  for  you,'  said  he,  turning  to  Ned,  '  such  a  loiterer 
should  be  trusted  to  escort  no  one  unless  it  were  his  grand 
mother,  or  a  rheumatic  old  lady  of  seventy.' 

Ned  Somers  laughed,  as  he  answered :  '  We  do  n't  all 
walk  as  rapidly  as  you  do.' 

*  The  more  shame  for  you,'  exclaimed  Ilarson.  '  Upon  my 
life !  I  believe  I  'm  younger  than  any  of  you.  Look  to  your 
self,  my  lad,  or  I  may  take  it  into  my  head  to  cut  you  out 
of  a  wife ;  and  if  you  lose  her,  you  won't  require  the  snug 
little  legacy  which  I  intend  to  leave  you  when  I  'm  under 
ground.  Come ;  shake  hands  with  the  girl,  and  bid  her 
good-night :  you  've  kept  her  in  the  street  long  enough. 
Good-night,  Jacob  —  good-night,  Kate.' 

He  took  her  hand,  and  whispered,  '  Be  of  good  heart ; 
your  father  is  coming  round.' 

His  mouth  was  very  near  her  ear ;  and  as  he  whispered, 
Ned  happened  to  be  looking  at  them,  and  thought  that  the 
communication  did  not  stop  with  the  whisper ;  and  Harson 
himself  looked  very  wickedly  up  at  him,  as  much  as  to  say 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  301 

'  Do  you  see  that  ?  —  you  had  better  have  a  sharp  eye  to 
your  interests ! ' 

Long  and  earnest  was  the  conversation  which  ensued 
between  Harson  and  Somers  on  their  way  home ;  and  nobly 
did  the  character  of  that  old  man  shine  out,  as  he  detailed 
his  future  views  for  his  young  friend's  welfare. 

'  You  need  not  thank  me,'  said  he,  in  reply  to  Ned's  warm 
acknowledgments.  '  The  best  return  that  I  can  have  will  be, 
to  find  you  always  in  word  and  deed  such  that  I  may  be 
proud  of  you ;  and  hereafter,  when  I  see  others  looking  up 
to  you,  and  hear  you  spoken  of  as  one  whose  character  is 
above  all  reproach,  that  I  may  say  to  myself:  'Thank  God, 
I  helped  to  make  him  what  he  is.'  This  is  all  that  I  want, 
Ned  ;  and  your  future  life  will  be  your  best  acknowledgment, 
or  will  prove  your  heartless  ingratitude.  Let  neither  success 
nor  failure  tempt  you  to  swerve  from  what  your  own  heart 
tells  you  to  be  right  and  fair.  Turn  out  as  your  schemes 
may,  never  forget  to  keep  your  motives  pure ;  and  believe 
me  that,  come  what  will,  you  '11  find  an  easy  conscience  a 
great  comforter  in  the  hour  of  trial.  Your  father  was  one 
of  my  oldest  friends ;  a  noble,  upright  man  he  was ;  and  it 
would  have  wounded  him  deeply  that  any  one  belonging  to 
him  should  have  been  otherwise;  and  it  would  give  me 
many  a  heavy  hour  if  his  only  child  did  not  turn  out  all 
that  I  expected  him  to  be.  I  am  right  glad  to  learn  that 
you  are  getting  bravely  on  in  your  business ;  and  as  for  this 
matter  with  Kate,'  said  he,  pausing,  for  they  had  come  to 
where  their  routes  separated,  '  it  can  easily  be  made  right. 
I  love  her  as  my  own  child ;  and  I  would  not  have  her 
thwarted  for  the  world.  I'll  see  Jacob  again  to-morrow; 
and  have  no  doubt  that  he  will  give  his  consent  at  last. 
Perhaps  it  would  be  better  for  you  not  to  present  yourself 
at  his  house  too  soon.  Work  your  way  back  to  where  you 


302  U A  R  R  Y    HA  RSON. 

were,  cautiously,  and  say  nothing  to  him  about  marrying 
Kate,  until  you  and  he  are  on  your  old  terms  of  good-fellow 
ship.  It  won't  be  long,  depend  on  it.  And  now,  recollect 
what  I  told  you  a  few  moments  ago.  If  you  want  any 
assistance  in  your  business,  or  if  a  loan  of  a  thousand  or 
two  dollars,  or  a  good  word  from  me,  will  push  you  on,  you 
shall  have  it.  Good-night ! '  And  Harson  had  not  gone  a 
hundred  yards,  before  he  was  whistling  so  loud  that  he  might 
have  been  heard  half  a  mile. 

'  God  help  you,  Harry ! '  muttered  Somers,  looking  after 
the  stout,  burly  figure  of  his  friend;  'God  bless  your  warm 
old  heart !  What  a  glorious  world  this  would  be,  if  there 
were  more  in  it  like  you ! ' 


HARRY    HARSON.  303 


CHAPTER     XXVI. 

AT  the  dead  of  the  night,  when  all  others  were  at  rest* 
Michael  Rust  glided  out  of  his  office.  It  was  a  strange 
hour,  but  he  had  become  a  strange  man.  Through  the 
silent  streets  he  stole,  with  a  step  so  noiseless  that  it  awoke 
no  echo.  Along  Broadway,  passing  where  the  city  ended 
and  the  fields  began,  mile  after  mile  he  went.  He  met  no 
one.  Every  house  that  he  passed  was  as  silent  as  the  grave ; 
except  a  solitary  one,  standing  by  itself,  with  a  light  shining 
through  an  upper  window,  as  if  some  one  kept  watch  at  a 
sick-bed.  Sometimes  the  road  ran  between  high  trees,  whose 
skeleton  outlines  stood  grimly  up  between  him  and  the  stars, 
stiff  and  motionless.  At  other  times,  it  coursed  along  dreary 
wastes;  then  again,  it  was  buried  in  dense  shadow;  now 
ascending,  now  descending.  At  times  he  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  distant  gray  river,  gleaming  in  the  darkness,  with 
here  and  there  the  light  on  board  some  vessel  at  anchor, 
glittering  like  a  star.  In  some  places,  where  it  was  shut  in 
by  high  banks,  the  road  seemed  inky  black ;  and  parts  of  it 
were  so  solitary,  that  even  a  stout  heart  might  have  shrunk 
from  traversing  it  at  that  dreary  hour.  But  Rust  thought 
not  of  fear.  What  had  he  to  do  with  that  feeling,  who 
sought  only  revenge  and  a  grave  ? 

It  was  yet  night  when  he  reached  a  house  in  the  upper 
part  of  the  island,  and  near  the  river.  Little  except  its  dim 
outline  was  visible  in  the  obscurity ;  and  as  he  opened  the 
gate,  and  passed  beneath  an  avenue  of  tall  trees  which  led 
to  it,  the  darkness  was  such  that  he  could  scarcely  see.  But 
he  was  familiar  with  the  ground,  and  without  hesitation 


304  HARRY    H ARSON. 

went  directly  to  the  door  of  the  house.  It  was  locked.  He 
drew  a  key  from  his  pocket,  unlocked  it,  went  in,  and  closed 
it  after  him.  He  groped  his  way  along  the  hall  until  he 
came  to  the  door  of  a  room,  which  he  opened.  A  few 
embers  were  smouldering  on  the  hearth,  sufficient  to  throw 
out  a  dim  light.  Lighting  a  candle  which  stood  on  a  table, 
he  drew  a  chair  to  the  fire  and  sat  down.  The  chamber 
was  large,  fitted  up  as  a  library,  and  filled  with  massive 
book-cases  of  dark  wood,  elaborately  carved,  which  gave  a 
sombre  appearance  to  the  room.  Nothing  that  money  could 
buy  had  been  spared ;  for  this  was  the  home  of  Rust's 
daughter,  and  that  hard,  reckless,  griping  man  had  been 
alive  but  to  one  feeling  —  love  to  his  child.  In  her  were 
garnered  up  all  his  affections,  and  upon  her  he  had  lavished 
all  that  his  means  could  obtain. 

For  a  long  time  he  sat  without  changing  his  position,  his 
eye  fixed,  his  mouth  compressed,  his  brow  knit,  not  a  sound 
escaping  him.  At  last  he  started  from  his  fit  of  abstraction, 
with  a  slight  shiver ;  passed  his  hand  once  or  twice  before 
his  eyes,  as  if  to  dispel  something  that  clouded  his  sight ; 
and  said,  in  a  whisper,  *  Can  all  this  be  real  ? '  The  clock 
struck  three.  He  rose,  cast  a  stealthy  glance  over  his 
shoulder,  and  taking  the  candle  in  his  hand,  held  it  up  over 
his  head,  examining  the  room  with  a  suspicious  look,  as  if 
he  momentarily  expected  some  form  to  start  from  behind 
the  heavy  furniture.  As  his  eye  was  wandering  round  the 
room,  it  rested  upon  a  picture  in  a  carved  frame,  which 
hung  against  the  wall.  He  went  to  it,  and  held  the  light  so 
that  its  rays  fell  full  upon  it.  It  was  the  portrait  of  a  girl  of 
about  seventeen.  Could  the  child-like,  innocent  face  which 
gazed  out  from  the  canvas  upon  that  fierce,  passion-worn 
man,  be  that  of  his  child?  Could  aught  so  pure  and 
beautiful  have  sprung  from  such  as  him  ?  And  worse  than 


HARRY    H ARSON.  305 

all,  could  she  ,have  lost  that  purity  which  was  stamped  on 
every  line  of  her  face  ? 

With  fixed  and  rigid  features,  with  a  hand  that  did  not 
tremble,  with  a  heart  that  scarcely  beat,  he  contemplated 
the  picture  ;  and  then  slowly,  as  if  in  a  dream,  replaced  the 
candle,  and  took  his  seat.  There  was  that  at  work  within 
him,  however,  which  banished  bodily  repose;  for  in  one 
minute  afterward,  he  was  up  and  pacing  the  room,  muttering 
and  gesticulating  to  himself;  the  next,  he  went  to  a  mirror, 
and  looked  at  his  own  face.  He  started  as  he  did  so ;  for 
he  had  not  seen  it  in  a  week ;  and  in  that  time  so  altered 
and  wasted  had  it  become,  with  its  long  unshorn  beard,  and 
ghastly  white  complexion,  that  he  could  scarcely  recognize  it. 

'  What  a  bird  of  prey  the  mind  is ! '  muttered  he ;  '  how 
it  devours  the  body ! '  He  turned  away,  and  once  more  his 
eye  rested  on  the  picture  which  hung  against  the  wall. 
Some  strange  feeling  seemed  to  spring  into  existence  as  he 
did  so  ;  for  his  breath  came  thick  and  hard ;  his  heart  beat, 
until  its  pulsations  could  be  heard,  loud  and  strong  like  the 
blows  of  a  hammer ;  his  hand  shook ;  but  at  the  same  time, 
his  brow  darkened,  and  its  look  of  anxious  and  half-wander 
ing  thought  gave  place  to  an  expression  that  was  perfectly 
fiendish.  He  muttered  a  few  words ;  then,  taking  the  light, 
cautiously  opened  the  door,  and  stole  up  the  broad  flight  of 
stairs  which  led  to  the  upper  story.  At  the  head  of  it  was 
a  door ;  he  tried  it ;  it  was  not  locked,  but  yielded  to  his 
push.  It  opened  into  a  bed-room,  luxuriously  furnished 
with  mirrors,  and  various  nick-nacks  and  articles  of  taste, 
such  as  a  young  and  wealthy  female  gathers  about  her ;  and 
in  the  bed  lay  a  beautiful  girl,  the  original  of  the  picture 
below,  sound  asleep,  her  long  hair,  which  had  become  un 
bound  as  she  slept,  lying  in  loose  tresses  upon  the  pillow. 
How  bright  and  beautiful  she  was !  How  gentle  and  calm 


306  HARRY    HARSON. 

her  breathing  was!  And  well  might  the  stern  old  man,  aa 
he  looked  at  her  angel  face,  have  misgivings  as  to  the  truth 
of  Grosket's  tale.  Rust's  hard  features  worked  convulsively 
as  he  stood  over  his  child,  as  if  powerful  feelings  were 
tugging  at  his  heart-strings ;  but  it  was  only  for  a  moment, 
for  he  choked  them  down ;  and  going  out,  in  the  cautious 
manner  in  which  he  had  entered,  he  closed  the  door  and 
descended  to  the  room  below. 

He  resumed  his  seat;  and  although  hour  after  hour 
elapsed  before  daylight  stole  into  the  room,  his  attitude 
remained  the  same,  until  a  servant  came  in  to  light  the  fire 
and  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise  at  seeing  him.  This 
aroused  him  ;  and  rising  hastily,  he  said,  *  I  'm  going  out. 
Tell  your  mistress  that  I  '11  be  here  at  ten  o'clock.'  He  left 
the  house ;  and  after  wandering  up  and  down  the  road,  he 
crossed  the  fields  until  he  came  to  the  edge  of  the  river, 
and  when  he  had  sauntered  along  it  for  some  time,  he  sat 
down  upon  a  rock,  and  commenced  casting  pebbles  in  the 
water. 

How  long  a  time  he  passed  in  this  way,  he  could  not  tell, 
but  it  must  have  been  several  hours ;  for  on  looking  at  his 
watch,  he  found  that  it  was  late  in  the  day.  Suddenly, 
recollecting  his  message  to  his  daughter,  he  rose  and  went 
directly  to  the  house.  He  crossed  the  lawn  in  front  of  it; 
but  before  he  had  time  to  reach  the  door,  a  light  figure 
sprang  out,  and  his  child's  arms  were  about  his  neck. 

*  Dear  father !  it 's  a  very  long  time  since  I  saw  you  ! '  said 
she,  putting  back  the  hair  which  hung  over  his  face,  and 
pressing  her  lips  to  his  cheek.  '  I  'm  very  happy  at  having 
you  here  once  more.  But  you  are  ill  —  very  ill !  What 
ails  you  ? '  said  she  suddenly,  as  she  observed  the  inroads 
which  the  last  few  days  had  made  in  his  whole  form.  Rust 


HARRY    HARSON.  307 

withdrew  from  her  embrace,  and  without  answering  her  ques 
tion,  said  in  a  cold  tone :  *  Come  in  the  house.' 

Though  his  words  were  simple,  there  was  that  in  his 
manner  (or  it  might  have  been  the  consciousness  of  guilt  on 
the  part  of  the  girl)  which  caused  her  cheek  to  grow  pale, 
and  her  step  to  falter;  and  she  accompanied  him  to  the 
library,  with  the  silent  and  downcast  look  of  a  criminal.  He 
took  a  chair,  drew  it  to  the  fire,  and  pointing  to  another,  said 
in  the  same  cold  tone :  '  Be  seated.' 

The  girl  obeyed  without  a  word.  At  that  moment  a  ser 
vant  opened  the  door,  and  told  Rust  that  a  man  was  inquir 
ing  for  him. 

Rust  got  up  and  went  out.  In  the  entry  were  two  men. 
One  of  them,  a  powerfully -built  fellow,  of  about  five-and- 
thirty,  with  light  hair  and  a  prominent  eye,  asked,  'Are  you 
Michael  Rust  ? ' 

Rust  scanned  him  from  head  to  foot.  He  suspected  his 
errand,  for  he  had  seen  him  before ;  and  he  replied  simply : 
«  I  am.' 

1  Then,  Sir,  we  Ve  come  for  you.'  At  the  same  time,  the 
man  produced  a  slip  of  paper,  and  tapped  Rust  on  the 
shoulder.  '  Here 's  the  warrant,  if  you  'd  like  to  look  at  it, 
and  the  vehicle 's  in  the  road  there.'  He  gave  a  nod  in  the 
direction. 

Rust  evinced  neither  surprise  nor  trepidation.  He  merely 
said,  in  a  musing  tone,  '  I  should  have  stipulated  for  a  longer 
time,  for  the  lawyer  has  lost  none.'  Then  addressing  the 
officer,  he  added :  *  My  daughter  is  in  the  room.  Before 
going  with  you,  I  should  like  to  speak  with  her  in  private. 
You  may  examine  the  room,  to  see  that  there  are  no  means 
of  escaping  from  it.' 

The  man  took  him  at  his  word ;  went  in  the  room ; 
glanced  round  without  noticing  the  girl,  who  regarded  him 


308  HARRY    H ARSON. 

with .  some  surprise ;  then  went  to  an  inner  door,  locked  iti, 
and  put  the  key  in  his  pocket. 

'Are  you  satisfied  ? '  asked  Rust. 

The  other  again  stared,  round  the  room :  went  to  the 
window ;  looked  out  to  see  how,  high  it  was  from  the 
ground  ;  said  that  he  was,  and  then  inquired  :  '  How  long'?' 

'  Ten  minutes,''  was  the  reply. 

*  Good  ! '  said  the  man  ;  and  with  a  knowing  look  at  Rust, 
and  a  shambling  bow  to  the  girl,  he  went  out,  and  seated 
himself  on  a  chair  in  the  hall,  having  taken  the  precaution 
to  send  his  companion  to  keep  an  eye  on  the  windows, 
which  were  within  leap  of  the  ground. 

Rust  returned  to  his  seat. '   '  Come  hither,  Ellen,'  said  he. 

His  daughter,  rose,  and  came  to  him ;  but  in  dead  silence. 

'  Look  at  me.     Am  I  much  altered  ? '  inquired  Rust. 

The  girl  raised  her  eyes  to  his.  They  quailed  before  his 
stern,  searching  glance ;  but  she  replied  in  a  low  voice : 
'  You  're  very  much  altered.' 

A  smile  of  strange  meaning  crossed  Rust's  face.  He 
turned,  and  pointed  to  the  picture  which  hung  against  the 
wall. 

*  Was  that  ever  a  good  likeness  of  you  ? '  asked  he. 

His  daughter  glanced  at  it,  with  some  surprise  at  the 
sudden  question,  and  then  replied  :  *  I  Ve  often  been  told  so, 
father  —  a  very  good  one.' 

*  They  told  you  the  truth.     It  was  a  good  one ;  and  now,' 
said  he,  turning  to  her,  and  fixing  his  eyes  on  her  face,  '  do 
you  think  I  am  as  much  changed  from  what  /  was,  as  you 
are  from  what  you  were,  when  that  picture  was  painted  ? 
Mark  it  well ! '  said  he,  speaking  quickly  and  earnestly,  and 
leaning  forward  until  his  face  almost  touched  hers.     '  Look 
at  every  feature.     See  what  innocence,  what  purity  of  soul 
and  thought  is  in  every  line  of  that  face.     An  angel  might 


HARRY    II ARSON.  309 

have  envied  its  jnnocence.  There  is  a  mirror,'  said  he, 
pointing  to  the  looking-glass  ;  '  Now  look  at  yourself.'  He 
half  rose,  and  his  voice  was  cold  and  cutting  as  he  concluded. 

The  girl  grew  red ;  then  deeper  and  deeper  crimson ;  then 
deadly,  ghastly  pale ;  the  perspiration  stood  upon  her  fore 
head,  and  her  eyes  were  blinded  with  tears :  but  she  could 
not  meet  his  glance. 

His  voice  sank  almost  to  a  whisper,  as  he  asked  :  '  Then 
what  I  have  heard  is  true  ? ' 

The  girl  seemed  absolutely  stunned. 

*  Be  it  so.  Now  you  know  the  cause  of  my  illness.  Look 
at  me.  Look  at  this  face,  scored  with  wrinkles ;  these  hollow 
cheeks,  and  this  frame,  broken  down  by  premature  old  age. 
Look  at  them,  I  say,  and  you  will  see  but  a  faint  image  of 
the  utter,  hopeless  waste  that  has  been  going  on  in  my 
heart.' 

The  girl  made  an  attempt  to  speak ;  sank  on  the  floor ; 
and  clasping  his  knees,  pressed  her  head  against  them,  and 
sobbed  aloud.  But  Rust  moved  not.  There  was  no  trace 
of  compassion  in  either  tone  or  manner,  as  he  continued : 
'  From  your  childhood  until  now,  you  were  the  person 
for  whose  welfare  I  toiled.  I  labored  and  strove  for  you ; 
there  was  not  a  thing  that  I  did,  not  a  thought  that  I  ever 
harbored,  which  had  not  your  happiness  for  its  aim;  and 
to  your  love  and  devotion  I  looked  for  my  reward;  and 
as  I  brooded  over  my  own  guilty  life,  blackened  as  it  was 
with  the  worst  of  crimes,  I  thought  that  it  was  some  pallia 
tion  to  be  the  parent  of  one  pure  and  spotless  as  you  were. 
Well,  you  turned  out  as  hundreds  of  others  have  done,  and 
my  labor  was  lost.  I  loved  you  as  never  child  was  loved ; 
and  in  proportion  as  my  love  once  was  great,  so  now  is  iny 
hate  and  scorn  ! ' 

'  Oh  !  my  God ! '  gasped  the  girl.     She  sank  down  as  if 


310  HARRY    HARSON. 

crushed.  Rust  looked  at  her  unmoved,  and  did  not  stir  to 
assist  her.  She  raised  her  hands  to  him,  and  said  in  a  sup 
plicating  tone  :  *  Facher !  as  you  hope  for  mercy,  hear  me ! ' 
'  If  I  received  not  mercy  from  my  own  child,'  said  Rust, 
sternly,  *  to  whom  can  I  look  for  it  ?  I  hope  for  it  no  where ; 
I  ask  for  it  no  where  ;  I  am  at  bay  to  the  whole  world.' 

One  of  those  dark,  withering  expressions  which  had  once 
been  so  common  to  his  features,  but  which  his  anguish  had 
for  the  last  few  days  in  a  great  measure  banished  from  them, 
swept  across  his  face. 

The  girl  wrung  her  hands,  as  she  received  his  harsh 
answer.  At  last  she  said,  in  a  broken  voice :  '  Father,  I  am 
sadly  guilty ;  but  hear  me,  for  God's  sake ;  do  hear  me ! ' 

At  that  moment  the  door  was  opened,  and  the  officer's 
head  was  thrust  in. 
1  Time 's  up.' 

*  I  must  have  ten  minutes  more,'  said  Rust. 
'  You  can't.' 

4 1  must,  I  will,"1  exclaimed  Rust,  sternly* 
He  tossed  him  a  dollar,  which  the  man  caught  in  his  hand 
with  professional  dexterity;  and  then,  with  a  grin,  said: 
*  Well,  if  you  're  so  very  anxious,  of  course  you  must  be 
accommodated  ; '  and  disappearing,  he  shut  the  door. 

'  You  said  that  you  were  guilty,'  resumed  Rust,  turning  to 
his  daughter.  '  I  know'  it.  There 's  but  one  more  so.  You 
know  to  whom  I  allude.  What  is  his  name  ? ' 

The  girl  grew  very  pale,  and  hung  down  her  head  in 
silence. 

'  Who  is  he  ? '  again  demanded  her  father,  seizing  her  arm 
with  a  strong  grasp. 
Still  she  made  no  reply. 

'  Be  it  so,'  said  Rust,  flinging  her  hand  from  him.  *  Perhaps 
silence  is  best.  Now,  one  other  question.  Where  is  he  ?  * 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  311 

She  shook  her  head,  and  replied  in  a  scarcely  audible  tone 
that  she  did  not  know. 

'  When  was  he  last  here  ? ' 

'About  a  week  since.' 

'And  when  did  he  promise  to  return  ? ' 

'  On  the  same  day,'  answered  the  girl,  in  a  low  tone. 

'And  he  has  not  kept  that  promise.  The  first  of  a  series 
of  black-hearted  lies ! '  exclaimed  Bust,  bitterly,  speaking 
more  to  himself  than  to  her.  '  In  these  cases,  lies  come  first, 
and  the  truth  last.'  He  again  addressed  her:  'Does  he 
speak  of  marriage  ?  and  do  you  urge  it  upon  him  ? ' 

'  I  do,  indeed  I  do  ! '  replied  the  girl,  apparently  anxious 
to  hit  upon  something  to  conciliate  the  stern  mood  of  her 
parent.  '  Often  and  often  I  remind  him  of  his  promise.' 

'And  what  is  his  answer  ? '  demanded  Rust,  with  a  half- 
mocking  smile. 

'  He  says  that  he  cannot  marry  me  just  now,  but  that  he 
will  soon.  He  wishes  to  obtain  the  consent  of  his  father, 
who  is  very  ill,  and  cannot  be  spoken  to  about  it ;  but  that 
he  will  soon  be  better,  and  that  then  it  will  all  be  settled.' 

'  How  long  has  he  been  making  these  excuses  ? ' 

'A  very  long  time  —  a  very  long  time,'  said  the  girl,  sadly  : 
'A  month  and  more.' 

'  How  often  did  he  come  here  at  first  ? ' 

'Every  day,'  said  the  girl. 

'And  now  ? ' 

His  daughter  was  silent ;  for  she  began  to  see  the  drift  of 
this  cold  examination,  and  it  sent  a  chill  to  her  heart. 

Rust  was  satisfied ;  and  he  said  in  a  half-musing  tone : 
*  The  same  stale,  hackneyed  story.  She  is  on  her  way  to 
where  the  first  misstep  always  leads.  Already  he  is  wearied, 
and  wants  but  an  excuse  to  fling  her  off ;  and  I  —  I  —  / — 


312  HARRY    HA  RSON. 

her  avenger,'  exclaimed  lie  with  a  burst  of  fierce  impatience, 
'/  am  shackled  ;  a  prisoner,  and  can  do  nothing ! ' 

He  mads  a  hasty  step  to  the  door,  opened  it,  and  beck 
oned  to  the  officer  to  come  in.  As  he  did  so,  he  shut  it 
after  him,  took  the  man  by  the  arm,  and  drew  him  to  one 
end  of  the  room  : 

'  I  want  a  week,'  said  he  in  a  quick  tone.  *  I  '11  give  a 
thousand  dollars  to  gain  one  week ;  and  at  the  end  of  that 
time  will  surrender  myself  a  prisoner.' 

The  man  shook  his  head :  *  It  can't  be  done,  Sir,'  said  he. 

'  What 's  the  reward  offered  for  my  apprehension  ? ' 

'A  cool  five  hundred,'  replied  the  officer. 

'  I  '11  double  it  to  escape,'  said  Rust,  '  or  to  gain  a  week, 
but  a  single  week.' 

The  man  shook  his  head.  *  Too  many  knows  that  we  're 
arter  you.  It  would  n't  do.' 

'But  at  the  expiration  of  that  time  I  would  surrender 
myself,  and  you  could  secure  the  reward  too.' 

The  man  gave  vent  to  a  low  chuckle,  and  placed  his 
finger  on  the  side  of  his  nose,  accompanying  the  motion  with 
a  sly  expression,  signifying  an  utter  disbelief  in  Rust's  pro 
mises. 

Rust  gnawed  his  lip  with  fierce  impatience ;  then  taking 
the  man  by  the  arm,  he  led  him  into  the  hall,  and  shut  the 
door. 

'  I  must  speak  out,'  said  he,  '  and  trust  to  your  honor  not 
to  betray  me.  A  villain  has  seduced  my  child.  I  want  to 
find  him,  and  to  compel  him  to  make  her  his  wife.  Now 
you  know  why  I  ask  a  week.' 

The  officer  at  first  whistled,  then  muttered  something 
about  its  being  a  hard  case ;  but  concluded  by  saying,  in  a 
positive  tone  :  '  It  can't  be  did,  Sir :  I  'm  sorry  for  it ;  upon 
my  word  I  am ;  but  I  must  keep  you  now  that  I  Ve  got 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  313 

you.  I  wish  you  'd  given  me  the  slip  at  first ;  but  I  can't 
let  you  go  now.  It 's  impossible  —  quite.' 

Rust  eyed  the  man,  as  if  endeavoring  to  find  in  his  hard 
features  some  loop-hole  to  his  more  kindly  feelings  ;  but  ap- 
rently  he  met  with  no  success. 

*  Well,  if  it  can't  be  done,  there 's  an  end  of  it,'  said  he, 
abruptly  terminating  his  scrutiny.    '  I  Ve  some  other  matters 
to  speak  of,  and  want  a  few  moments  more.     *  I  '11  not  de 
tain  you  long,  and  will  call  you  when  I  'm  ready.' 

*  I  '11  give  you  all  the  time  I  can,'  said  the  man,  civilly. 
Rust  turned  to  enter  the  room,  but  as  he  did  so  he  heard 

a  quick  step  behind  him ;  and  looking  round,  found  himself 
face  to  face  with  a  young  man  of  two  or  three  and  twenty, 
elegantly  dressed,  who  eyed  him  carelessly,  and  then  passing 
him,  entered  the  room  with  the  air  of  one  perfectly  at  home. 
A  suspicion  of  who  he  was  flashed  across  Rust's  mind. 
That  he  himself  was  unknown  to  the  other  was  not  strange, 
for  he  had  been  so  much  absent,  and  when  he  visited  his 
child  it  was  at  such  irregular  intervals,  and  for  such  short 
periods,  that  a  person  might  have  been  even  a  frequent 
visitor  at  his  house,  without  encountering  him.  Nor  was 
there  any  thing  in  the  outward  appearance  of  the  slovenly, 
haggard  old  man  to  attract  attention.  But  the  indifference 
of  the  other  was  not  reciprocated ;  for  Rust  followed  him, 
and  closed  the  door  after  him,  with  feverish  haste,  as  if 
he  feared  his  prey  might  escape.  He  observed  the  deep 
blush  that  sprang  to  the  cheek  of  his  daughter  at  the 
entrance  of  the  stranger ;  her  guilty,  yet  joyous  look  as  he 
addressed  her ;  and  above  all,  he  perceived  his  careless,  cold, 
indifferent  reply  to  her  warm  salutation ;  and  a  feeling  of 
revenge,  the  deadliest  that  he  had  ever  felt,  sprang  up  in  his 
heart  against  that  man  ;  not  so  much  because  he  had  blasted 

14 


314  HARRY    HARSON. 

the  happiness  of  his  child,  as  because  he  had  torn  from  him 
all  that  he  had  clung  to  in  life. 

Rust  walked  to  the  fire-place,  turned  his  back  to  it,  and 
without  uttering  a  word,  faced  the  stranger,  who  eyed  him 
from  head  to  foot  with  a  cool,  supercilious  stare ;  then  looked 
at  the  girl,  as  if  seeking  an  explanation. 

The  pause,  however,  was  broken  by  Rust  himself,  as  he 
pointed  with  his  thin  finger  to  their  visitor,  and  inquired  of 
his  daughter  :  *  Is  that  the  man  ? ' 

The  girl's  face  became  ghastly  pale ;  her  lips  moved,  but 
she  dared  not  raise  her  eyes ;  for  she  could  not  encounter 
the  keen,  inquiring  look  which  she  knew  was  fixed  upon  her. 

'Answer  my  question,'  said  he,  sternly.  '  This  is  no  time 
for  tampering  with  my  patience.' 

His  daughter  attempted  to  speak.  She  trembled  from 
head  to  foot;  but  not  a  word  escaped  her.  So  intense  was 
her  anguish,  that  it  awoke  a  spark  of  better  feeling  in  the 
young  man  ;  for,  confronting  Rust,  he  said  in  a  bold  voice  : 
'  If  you  have  any  questions  to  ask  respecting  me,  address 
them  to  me,  not  to  her? 

1 1  will,'  replied  Rust,  fixing  upon  him  an  eye  that  fairly 
glowed ;  4  for  you  should  best  know  your  own  character. 
Are  you  the  cold-blooded  scoundrel  who,  taking  advantage 
of  that  girl's  confiding  disposition,  of  the  absence  of  her 
father,  stole  like  a  thief  into  his  house;  by  lies,  by  false 
oaths,  and  damning,  hypocritical  professions  of  love,  won  her 
affection ;  blighted  her,  and  then  left  her  what  I  blush  to 
name  ?  You  wish  the  question  addressed  to  you  ;  you  have 
it.  I  '11  have  your  reply.' 

Withering  like  a  parched  leaf ;  shrinking  as  if  a  serpent 
were  in  his  path ;  with  a  face  which  changed  from  white  to 
red,  from  red  to  white,  the  stranger  met  these  questions. 
But  Rust's  eye  never  left  his  face.  There  was  no  trace  of 


HARRY    II ARSON.  315 

anger  nor  emption  in  his  marble  features.  He  merely  said : 
'  I  want  your  answer.' 

With  a  face  heavy  with  guilt ;  with  a  voice  that  shook 
even  while  it  assumed  a  tone  of  boldness;  the  stranger 
demanded :  '  Who  are  you  ?  and  what  right  have  you  to 
question  me  thus  ? ' 

'  Not  much  right,'  replied  Rust ;  *  I  'm  not  even  a  rival 
suitor ;  I  'm  only  this  girl's  father.  Perhaps  you  will  answer 
me  now.' 

The  other  was  silent.  Rust  turned  to  his  daughter,  and 
said  :  '  This  man  has  suddenly  become  dumb.  Is  this  he  of 
whom  we  spoke  ?  An  answer  I  must  have,  and  a  true  one. 
Do  not  add  a  lie  to  the  infamy  which  already  covers  you.' 

The  girl  hesitated,  and  then  uttered  something  in  a  voice 
so  low  as  to  be  scarcely  audible ;  but  faint  as  it  was,  Rust 
caught  the  word,  llt  is  ! ' 

*  It  is  well,'  replied  he,  facing  the  stranger,  and  drawing 
his  person  up  erect.  '  I  have  no  time  to  waste  in  words,  and 
will  state  what  I  have  to  say  as  concisely  as  possible,  and 
will  act  as  promptly  as  I  speak.  This  is  my  only  child. 
She  was  once  unsullied,  and  I  was  proud  of  her :  that  she  is 
not  so  now,  is  your  fault.  There  is  but  one  mode  of  repair 
ing  what  you  've  done.  Will  you  marry  her  ? ' 

'  I  certainly  intend  to  do  so,'  said  the  young  man,  with  a 
guilty  look,  which  gave  the  lie  to  his  words. 

'  I  want  deeds,  not  intentions]  replied  Rust.  *  What  you 
do  must  be  done  now  —  before  you  leave  this  room.  A 
clergyman  resides  within  a  mile.  In  half  an  hour  he  can 
be  here.' 

The  girl  clasped  her  hands  joyfully,  and  looked  eagerly  at 
him ;  but  there  was  nothing  responsive  in  the  expression  of 
his  face ;  and  he  answered  : 


316  HARRY    HARSON. 

1 1  can't  see  the  necessity  of  this  haste ;  beside,  it  would 
ruin  all  my  prospects.' 

'You  can't  see  the  necessity  of  this  haste!'  exclaimed 
Rust,  in  a  voice  of  thunder.  *  Ruin  your  prospects !  What 

has  become  of  her  prospects  ?  What  —  what But  no 

matter,'  added  he,  choking  down  a  fierce  burst  of  passion, 
and  suddenly  assuming  a  tone  so  unnaturally  calm  that  it 
might  have  been  a  warning  to  the  other  that  it  was  but  a 
lull  in  the  storm.  *  Michael  Rust  presents  his  compliments  to 
his  unknown  friend,  and  begs  to  know  if  he  will  do  him  the 
honor  of  marrying,  on  the  spot,  his  daughter  whom  he  has 
polluted  ? ' 

He  paused  for  an  answer ;  his  lips  were  deadly  white  and 
quivering,  and  his  eye  glowed.  The  young  man  quailed 
before  it;  but  apparently  he  was  only  waiting  for  an  oppor 
tunity  to  throw  off  the  mask ;  for  he  answered  boldly  :  '  No, 
I  will  not.' 

'You  had  better,'  said  Rust,  in  a  low,  warning  tone. 
*  Think  of  it  again.' 

'  You  have  my  answer,'  was  the  reply. 

4  Then  take  Michael  Rust's  thanks  ! '  A  flash  and  report 
followed;  and  when  the  smoke  cleared  away,  the  seducer 
was  lying  on  the  floor,  stone  dead.  A  bullet  had  passed 
through  his  head.  The  policemen  rushed  in  the  room. 

*  If  I  could  have  had  a  week,  I  might  have  avoided  this,' 
said  Rust,  coldly.     'As  it  was,  I  had  no  alternative.' 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  a  servant  came  in.  He  pointed  to 
his  daughter,  who  was  lying  senseless  at  his  feet. 

*  Look  to  your  mistress  ! ' 

Turning  to  the  policemen,  who  stood  by  with  blanched 
faces,  he  said  :  *  Now  then,  I  am  ready ! ' 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  317 


CHAPTER     XXVII. 

IN  a  small  room,  containing  a  box-bedstead,  a  single 
chair,  and  a  common  wooden  table,  on  which  was  a  pitcher 
of  water,  sat  Michael  Rust.  The  heavy  iron  bars  which 
grated  the  windows,  and  the  doors  of  thick  oaken  plank, 
secured  by  strong  bolts  of  iron,  indicated  beyond  a  doubt 
the  nature  of  his  abode  —  a  prison.  He  was  sitting  on  the 
edge  of  his  bed,  with  his  arms  resting  on  the  table,  which 
was  drawn  close  to  it,  and  his  head  leaning  upon  them.  At 
times  he  straightened  himself  up,  looked  listlessly  about  the 
room,  and  then  resumed  his  old  position. 

A  key  turned  in  the  door ;  the  heavy  bolt  was  drawn 
back,  and  a  head  was  thrust  in. 

*  Some  one  wants  to  see  you.     Shall  he  come  in  ? ' 

'Yes.' 

The  head  was  withdrawn,  and  the  -door  being  opened, 
admitted  no  less  a  person  than  Mr.  Kornicker,  somewhat 
faded  in  appearance  since  we  last  saw  him,  but  still  wearing 
an  air  of  dashing  pretension.  He  stood  at  the  door,  shaking 
his  head,  winking  to  himself,  and  fumbling  in  his  pocket, 
evidently  in  a  state  of  great  mental  perplexity,  probably 
from  his  entertaining  doubts  as  to  what  would  be  the  cha 
racter  of  his  reception ;  or  from  his  being  equally  uncertain 
as  to  the  best  mode  of  opening  the  conversation.  Nor  was 
he  at  all  relieved  by  Rust,  who,  without  moving,  fastened  his 
eye  upon  him  with  a  cold,  steadfast  stare. 

Kornicker,  however,  seemed  to  have  fixed  upon  his  course 


318  HARRY    H ARSON. 

of  action  at  last ;  for  he  walked  up  to  him,  and  stretching 
out  his  hand,  said : 

'  Won't  you  give  us  your  fist,  my  old  fellow  ?  You  're  in 
trouble,  but  I'll  stand  by  you  to  the  last.  If  I  don't, 
damme ! '  He  struck  his  other  hand  on  the  table,  and 
nodded  and  winked  with  great  vehemence. 

*  So  there  is  yet  one  who  has  not  turned  his  back  on  the 
felon,'  said  Rust,  partly  addressing  Kornicker  and  partly 
speaking  to  himself ;  'one  true  man;  a  rare  thing  in  this 
world ;  a  jewel  —  a  jewel  beyond  all  price ;  and,  like  all 
costly  stones,  found  only  in  the  poorest  soils ;  but,'  added 
he,  *  what  have  /  done  to  gain  friends,  or  to  link  one  solitary 
heart  to  my  fortunes  ?  —  what  ? ' 

He  shook  his  head ;  and  although  his  face  was  unmoved, 
and  he  spoke  in  the  low,  half-soliloquizing  manner  of  one 
who  rather  brooded  over  the  past  than  regretted  it,  yet 
there  was  something  so  sad  in  his  tone,  and  in  his  melan 
choly  gesture,  that  it  did  more  to  call  forth  the  warm  feel 
ings  of  Kornicker  than  the  most  eloquent  language. 

'  What  have  you  done  ? '  demanded  he,  earnestly ;  *  I  '11 
tell  you  what  you  did.  When  I  was  at  low-water  mark} 
with  scarce  a  rag  to  my  back  or  a  crust  to  my  stomach, 
and  without  a  prospect  of  getting  one,  you  took  me  by  the 

hand,  and  in  a  d d  gentlemanly  way  gave  me  a  hoist 

out  of  the  gutter.  That  Js  what  you  did ;  and  if  you  did 
flare  up  now  and  then,  and  haul  me  over  the  coals,  it  was 
soon  over,  and  soon  forgotten.  I  don't  bear  malice,  old 
fellow.  Is  is  n't  my  way ;  and  as  you  're  in  trouble  now,  if 
I  can  help  you,  I  will.  Never  desert  any  one  :  am,  unfortu 
nately,  bloody  short  of  cash  ;  but  you  can  have  what  I  Ve  got, 
and  when  I  get  more,  you  shall  have  that  too.' 

As  he  spoke,  he  plunged  his  hand  to  the  bottom  of  his 


HARRY    H ARSON.  319 

pocket,  drew  out  a  very  shabby -looking  pocket-book,  and 
deposited  it  on  the  table. 

*  It  is  n't  much  ;  but  you  '11  find  it  useful  here,  and  you  're 
welcome  to  it.  This  is  n't  the  shop  where  nothing  put  out  at 
interest  produces  a  heavy  income.' 

This  offer  had  a  powerful  effect  upon  Rust ;  and  it  seemed 
as  if  some  long-dormant  feelings  were  working  their  way  to 
the  surface  from  the  depths  of  his  heart.  He  gazed  earnestly 
at  his  clerk,  and  once  or  twice  opened  his  mouth  to  speak ; 
but  finally  he  got  up,  and  taking  the  pocket-book  from  the 
table,  handed  it  back  to  Kornicker,  saying : 

'I'm  not  in  want  of  money.  Gold  is  but  dross  now. 
I  Ve  plenty  of  it ;  but  its  value  in  my  eyes  is  gone.' 

'  But,'  remonstrated  Kornicker,  holding  his  hands  behind 
him,  and  looking  obstinately  in  another  direction,  partly  to 
avoid  taking  the  pocket-book  and  partly  to  resist  the  solici 
tations  of  his  own  necessities,  which  were  strenuously  urging 
him  to  do  so,  '  but  you  may  want  a  lawyer  to  fight  for  you 
at  your  trial.' 

'  For  that  farce  I  am  prepared.  I  have  one.  He 's  paid 
for  it,  and  he  '11  fight,'  said  Rust.  '  It  will  avail  nothing,  for 
I  did  slay  the  man.  It  was  a  cold-blooded,  deliberate  murder. 
I  planned  it ;  I  went  up  to  that  place  with  the  stern  determi 
nation  to  commit  it;  and  \did  commit  it.  It  was  no  hasty 
act,  done  in  a  moment  of  fierce  and  sudden  passion ;  but  a 
deed  duly  and  deliberately  meditated,  and  one  that  I  would 
repeat.  What  he  had  done,  it 's  useless  to  mention.  I  had 
no  redress,  except  what  my  own  hand  could  give  me.  He 
has  paid  his  forfeit,  and  I'll  pay  mine.  I'll  fight  to  the 
last ;  because,'  added  he,  with  that  expression  of  stern  pur 
pose  which  so  often  settled  on  his  face,  '  Michael  Rust  never 
yields;  and  then,  let  the  law  do  its  worst.  Take  your 
money  ;  I  do  n't  need  it.' 


320  HARRY    HARSON. 

Kornicker  hesitated ;  and  then  thrusting  it  in  his  pocket, 
said :  '  I  suppose,  if  you  should  happen  to  be  short,  you  '11 
let  me  know.' 

*  I  will,'  replied  Rust ;  '  but  I  Ve  enough  to  last  until  rny 
sand  is  run  out.  They  '11  hang  me.7 

'Don't  talk  so,'  exclaimed  Kornicker,  with  a  feeling  not  a 
little  akin  to  fear,  at  the  cold,  indifferent  manner  in  which 
the  other  spoke.  '  You  may  escape  —  who  knows  ? ' 

Rust  looked  at  him  steadily,  and  then  said,  in  a  low,  calm 
voice :  'If  it  were  not  that  man  and  law  were  leagued  against 
me  to  force  me  to  my  doom,  not  one  dollar  would  Michael 
Rust  give  to  add  an  hour  to  his  life.  He  looks  to  the  grave 
only  as  to  that  dark  abyss  which  knows  neither  thought  nor 
care ;  where  the  past  is  forgotten ;  where  the  future  ends. 
Death  is  but  a  deep  dreamless  sleep,  which  has  no  waking. 
Yet  even  this  boon  he  will  not  accept,  if  it 's  forced  upon 
him.' 

'  But  the  disgrace,  the  disgrace  of  such  an  end,'  exclaimed 
Mr.  Kornicker,  twisting  .his  fingers  together,  and  in  his 
earnestness  cracking  the  knuckles  of  all  of  them.  '  Think 
of  that,  my  old  fellow.  Think  of  the  stain  that  will  always 
rest  upon  your  memory.' 

A  smile,  without  a  trace  of  pleasure  in  it,  but  cold  and 
icy,  passed  across  Rust's  face. 

'  What  is  my  memory  to  me  ?  What  care  I  for  the 
whispers  and  sneers  and  surmises  of  the  reptiles  who  crowd 
this  world,  and  who  will  soon  be  as  /  then  shall  be  ?  What 
are  these  very  men  themselves  ?  Shadows  !  —  shadows  ! 
Go :  my  course  is  chosen.  You  can  do  nothing  for  me.' 

Still  Kornicker  did  not  show  any  intention  of  quitting  the 
room,  but  shifted  from  one  leg  to  the  other,  in  a  fidgety 
manner,  as  if  he  had  something  farther  to  communicate,  upon 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  321 

which,  however,  he  did  not  like  to  venture.  At  last  he 
said :  '  Your  daughter  ? ' 

Rust  turned  a  quick,  keen  eye  on  him,  but  farther  than 
this,  evinced  no  emotion. 

'  Perhaps  she  may  need  a  friend,  when  —  when ' 

'I'm  dead,'  said  Rust,  concluding  what  seemed  to  bo 
rather  an  embarrassing  sentence  to  Kornicker. 

'  I  'm  not  exactly  the  fellow  to  make  the  offer,'  said  Kor 
nicker,  adopting  the  conclusion  which  Rust  had  given  to  the 
phrase;  'but  —  but  I'll  keep  an  eye  on  her,  and  will  lend 
her  a  helping  hand  if  she  gets  in  trouble.' 

Rust's  countenance  expressed  neither  pleasure  nor  anger, 
as  he  answered : 

'Nothing  can  be  done  for  her.  Her  fate  is  sealed ;  her 
path  is  marked  out.  There  is  neither  turn  nor  winding  in 
it,  nor  escape  from  the  destiny  to  which  it  leads.  She  has 
taken  the  first  step  in  it,  and  must  follow  it  to  the  end. 
Look  at  the  reckless  and  abandoned  of  her  sex  who  crowd 
our  thoroughfares  at  night.  Their  fate  must  be  her  fate ; 
an  outcast  —  then  the  tenant  of  a  public  prison,  where  her 
associates  will  be  the  thief  and  the  felon.  That 's  her  second 
step.  The  third  is  —  to  her  coffin  :  broken  down,  beggared, 
perhaps  starving,  she  '11  die  surrounded  by  the  ofiscouring  of 
the  earth  —  happy  if  she  reaches  her  grave  before  she  has 
run  her  full  course.' 

There  was  something  in  the  apathetic  manner  in  which 
the  old  man  pointed  out  the  future  fate  of  his  own  child, 
that  actually  silenced  Kornicker.  He  knew  not  what  to 
say.  There  was  no  grief  to  console  ;  no  anger  to  deprecate ; 
no  wish  to  be  fulfilled.  He  had,  however,  come  to  the 
prison  with  his  mind  made  up  to  do  something,  and  he  did 
not  like  to  be  thwarted  in  his  purpose.  But  before  he  had 
fairly  determined  what  course  was  to  be  pursued  next,  Rust 

14* 


322  HARRY    HARSON. 

interrupted  the  current  of  his  ideas  by  saying,  as  he  pressed 
his  hand  upon  his  heart : 

'You  can  do  nothing  for  me.  The  disease  is  here;  and 
the  only  one  who  can  heal  it  is  the  great  Physician,  Death, 
Could  you  blot  the  past  from  my  memory  and  leave  it  one 
vast  blank  ;  could  you  gild  the  future  with  hopes  which  this 
heart  did  not  tell  me  were  utterly  hollow;  then  perhaps 
Michael  Rust  might  struggle  on,  like  thousands  of  others, 
with  some  object  in  view,  always  to  be  striven  for,  but  always 
receding  as  he  advanced,  or  turning  to  ashes  in  his  grasp. 
But  it  cannot  be.  I  Ve  played  my  part  in  the  great  drama 
of  life,  and  the  curtain  will  soon  fall.' 

A  spirit  of  callous  indifference  pervaded  all  that  he  said 
and  did ;  and  making  a  gesture  to  Kornicker,  forbidding  all 
farther  remark,  he  threw  himself  on  the  bed,  and  drew  the 
clothes  about  his  head,  as  if  determined  to  shut  out  all 
sound. 

Kornicker  made  one  or  two  efforts  to  draw  him  again  into 
conversation,  but  the  communicative  mood  was  past ;  and 
finding  that  nothing  farther  was  to  be  done,  he  left  him. 

From  that  time  Kornicker,  true  to  his  maxim  of  deserting 
no  one,  was  constant  in  his  visits  and  endeavors  to  comfort 
and  assist  him  in  preparing  for  his  trial.  But  never  had 
man  a  more  arduous  task  than  he  found  in  this  self-imposed 
duty ;  for  the  hidden  transactions  of  Rust's  past  life  had 
become  public,  and  had  turned  the  full  tide  of  popular-  feel 
ing  against  him ;  and  far  and  wide,  through  town  and 
country,  with  all  that  could  excite  public  animosity,  rang 
that  bloody  tale,  (for  the  dead  man  had  powerful  friends  to 
battle  for  vengeance.)  It  was  in  every  mouth,  and  whis 
pered  in  every  ear.  In  the  broad  glare  of  day,  and  before 
the  eyes  of  the  whole  world,  was  paraded  every  secret  of 
Rust's  life.  Witnesses  who  had  been  forgotten  and  had  sunk 


tiARRY    H ARSON.  323 

from  sight,  and  were  supposed  to  be  dead,  sprang  into  life, 
all  having  some  dark  deed  to  record.  Pamphlets,  teeming 
with  exaggerated  details  of  the  murder,  Avere  hawked  through 
the  streets ;  peddled  at  every  corner ;  hung  in  every  shop 
window.  Rust's  own  black  life  had  prejudged  him,  and  had 
turned  public  opinion  into  public  hate,  until  every  voice 
called  out  for  blood.  It  was  under  this  feeling  that  his  trial 
came  on. 

Early  on  that  morning,  long  before  the  court  was  opened, 
a  stream  of  people  was  thronging  toward  the  City  Hall  by 
twenties  and  thirties  and  hundreds.  The  iron  gates  were 
barred  to  keep  them  out ;  still  they  contrived  to  get  in,  and 
swarmed  through  the  halls.  And  when  the  court  was 
opened,  officers  armed  with  staves  were  stationed  on  the 
stairs  to  fight  them  down,  for  there  was  no  room  for  them. 
The  court-room  was  crammed  with  men  heaped  upon  men, 
climbing  one  on  the  other ;  heads  upon  heads,  swarming  like 
bees,  and  packed  and  wedged  together,  leaving  not  a  foot 
to  spare.  And  in  the  midst  of  all  that  living  mass  sat 
Rust,  unmoved,  unflinching;  returning  look  for  look,  de 
fiance  for  defiance ;  reckless  as  to  his  fate,  but  resolute  not 
to  yield. 

There  was  one,  however,  at  that  trial,  who  was  not  so  in 
different.  He  was  a  man  of  about  fifty,  tall  and  thin,  with 
a  grave,  dignified  face,  which  yet  bore  a  strong  resemblance 
to  that  of  Rust.  He  was  deadly  pale,  and  sat  next  to  Rust's 
lawyers,  conversing  with  them  in  a  low,  earnest  tone,  and  at 
times,  as  the  trial  went  on,  suggesting  questions  to  them. 
This  was  Rust's  brother;  the  father  of  the  two  children. 
Generous  to  the  last,  he  had  forgiven  all,  and  was  battling 
for  the  life  of  one  who  had  done  his  utmost  to  blast  his.  If 
Rust's  cold  eye  sank,  or  his  spirit  quailed,  it  was  only  when 
he  encountered  the  mild,  sad  eye  of  that  brother. 


824  HARRY    H ARSON. 

The  jury  was  ernpannelled.  The  District  Attorney  opened 
the  case  for  the  prosecution ;  and  then  the  examination  of 
witnesses  commenced.  Foot  by  foot  and  inch  by  inch  was 
the  ground  contested  by  Rust's  counsel.  Exceptions  to  tes 
timony  were  taken,  points  of  law  raised,  and  every  informal 
ity  or  technicality  which  afforded  a  loop-hole  for  objection 
was  taken  advantage  of.  The  day  dragged  heavily  on,  and 
Rust  grew  weary.  The  constant  stir  about  him ;  the  hum 
of  voices,  occasionally  hushed  into  silence  at  the  cry  of  the 
officer,  or  the  tap  of  the  judge  on  his  desk ;  the  hot,  stifling 
air  of  the  room ;  the  wranglings  of  the  lawyers,  all  tended 
to  bewilder  him.  All  excitement  had  long  since  left  him. 
A  leaden  heaviness  had  settled  upon  all  his  faculties,  and, 
leaning  his  head  upon  the  table,  even  while  life  and  death 
were  in  the  scale,  he  slept  soundly. 

He  was  aroused  by  his  lawyer  touching  his  arm.  lie  sat 
up,  and  gazed  vacantly  about  him. 

1  Who  's  that  ? '  said  he,  pointing  to  the  witness's  stand. 

Rust  half  started  to  his  feet ;  then,  clasping  his  hands 
hard  together,  sat  down,  and  leaned  his  head  on  the  table, 
but  said  not  a  word. 

The  clerk  called  out  her  name. 

'Ellen  Colton.' 

4  Who  is  she  ? '  demanded  the  lawyer. 

Rust  drew  himself  up  ;  and  many  who  had  been  watching 
him,  observed  that  his  face  had  become  perfectly  corpse- 
like  ;  his  breathing  oppressed  ;  and  that  his  eyes  seemed 
starting  from  their  sockets,  as  he  fixed  them  on  the  witness. 

*  My  own  flesh  and  blood ! '  muttered  he ;  '  my  own 
child ! ' 

The  girl  was  sworn ;  but  it  was  evident  that  a  terrible 
struggle  was  going  on,  and  she  had  to  be  supported  to  a 
chair.  The  lawyer  for  the  prosecution  took  down  her  name, 


HARRY    H ARSON.  325 

and  then  asked  her  a  question.  He  received  no  answer. 
He  repeated  it ;  but  the  girl  was  silent.  She  held  down  her 
head,  and  seemed  half  fainting. 

'  You  must  reply,'  said  the  judge. 

The  girl  raised  her  eyes,  and  said,  in  a  low  supplicating 
tone,  '  He  's  my  father.' 

The  judge  shook  his  head.  'It's  a  very  painful  task,' 
said  he,  '  but  there  's  no  alternative.' 

The  girl  uttered  not  a  word,  and  the  court-room  became 
so  hushed  that  even  the  hard  breathing  of  the  witness  was 
audible. 

'I  must  have  an  answer,'  said  the  judge,  gravely,  yet 
mildly,  for  he  respected  the  feelings  which  dictated  her 
course.  '  Will  you  answer  the  question  put  by  the  District 
Attorney  ? ' 

'  I  will  not,'  was  the  firm  reply. 

The  face  of  the  judge  grew  a  little  flushed,  and  he  com 
pressed  his  lips,  as  if  the  duty  which  now  rested  with  him 
were  an  unpleasant  one.  But  before  he  had  time  to  speak, 
the  District  Attorney  rose,  and  muttering  in  a  tone  loud 
enough  to  be  heard,  '  I  will  not  slay  the  parent  through  the 
child,'  said  :  '  If  the  Court  please,  I  withdraw  the  question. 
I  '11  call  another  witness.' 

The  judge  bowed,  and  the  girl  was  led  away. 

Rust  had  risen  to  his  feet  as  if  to  speak,  but  he  sat  down, 
and  the  trial  proceeded.  The  whole  of  that  day  passed  in 
the  examination  of  witnesses ;  so  did  the  day  following. 
Then  came  the  summing  up  of  the  lawyers,  and  the  charge 
of  the  judge  to  the  jury.  During  the  whole  time,  the  crowd 
came  and  went,  but  at  all  times  the  room  was  thronged. 
The  jury  went  out ;  still  the  crowd  hung  about  the  Hall.  It 
grew  dark ;  but  they  could  not  go  to  their  homes  until  they 
knew  the  result ;  but  round  and  round  the  Hall,  and  through 


326  HA RRY    HA RSO N. 

the  avenues  of  the  Park,  they  wandered,  watching  the  dim 
light  in  the  jury-room,  and  wondering  what  the  verdict  would 
be.  One  of  them  stole  up  to  the  gray-headed  officer  who 
watched  at  the  door,  and  inquired  what  the  chance  was ; 
and  as  the  old  man  shook  his  head,  and  muttered  that  they 
leaned  toward  a  fatal  verdict,  he  rubbed  his  hands  with  glee, 
and  hastened  to  communicate  the  tidings  to  those  below. 
Twelve  —  one  —  two  —  three  o'clock  at  night  came;  still 
the  twelve  men  held  out,  and  still  the  judge,  an  upright, 
conscientious,  patient  man,  maintained  his  post,  waiting  for 
the  verdict,  and  ready  to  solve  any  doubts  or  points  of  law 
that  might  arise.  The  court-room  grew  cold  ;  the  fires  went 
out,  except  one  near  the  bench,  and  where  the  prisoner 
was.  Sixty  or  seventy  persons  sat  in  the  dim  recesses  of 
the  room,  looking  like  dark  shadows,  resolved  to  await  the 
result.  A  few  stretched  themselves  on  the  benches,  and 
others  gathered  in  knots  near  the  fire,  and  whispered 
together ;  and  now  and  then  there  was  a  loud  laugh,  sud 
denly  hushed,  as  the  person  who  uttered  it  remembered 
where  he  was.  At  last  the  judge  went  out,  and  left  word 
with  the  officer  to  send  for  him  if  the  jury  agreed,  or  wanted 
his  advice.  The  night  waned ;  the  sky  grew  gray  in  the 
east;  and  presently  the  day  broke — but  no  verdict.  At  an 
early  hour  the  judge  returned,  and  the  court-room  filled 
again.  Nine  —  ten  —  eleven.  Suddenly  there  was  a  hum  — 
a  shuffling  in  the  hall.  The  door  was  thrown  open  by  the 
gray-headed  constable,  and  the  jury  entered. 

4  The  jury 's  agreed,'  cried  the  officer.  There  was  a  dead 
silence  among  the  crowd  while  the  jury  took  their  places, 
before  the  clerk  called  for  their  verdict.  Then  the  foreman 
gave  in  the  verdict : 

'  GUILTY  OF  MURDER  IN  THE  FIRST  DEGREE  ! ' 

Rust  moved  not ;  no  change  of  color  or  feature  was  per- 


HARRY    HARSON.  327 

ceptible,  except  a  slight  smile,  and  that  too  faded  in  a 
moment. 

The  trial  was  over;  and  the  crowd  poured  out  of  the 
Hall  and  through  the  streets,  yelling  with  delight,  and  stop 
ping  those  whom  they  met,  to  tell  them  that  Michael  Rust 
was  doomed  to  die. 

Rust  sat  without  stirring,  until  an  officer  touched  him, 
and  told  him  that  he  must  go.  He  then  rose,  and  followed 
him  without  a  word.  The  crowd  gathered  around  him,  as 
he  went  out;  but  he  did  not  notice  them.  His  brother 
walked  at  his  side,  but  he  heeded  him  not ;  and  when  he 
reached  his  prison,  without  uttering  a  word,  he  flung  himself 
wearily  upon  his  bed,  and  was  soon  sound  asleep. 

He  awoke,  a  different  man ;  and  when  his  lawyer  called 
to  see  him  on  the  following  day,  he  found  him  as  fierce 
as  a  caged  beast.  He  endeavored  to  utter  some  remark  of 
consolation ;  but  Rust  impatiently  bade  him  to  be  silent. 
He  spoke  about  a  clergyman ;  but  the  reply  was  a  laugh  so 
mocking  and  scornful,  that  he  was  glad  to  drop  the  theme. 

'  Is  the  game  ended  ? '  at  last  inquired  Rust.  '  Is  there 
no  farther  cast  of  the  die  left  ? ' 

The  lawyer  looked  at  him,  as  if  in  doubt  of  his  meaning. 

Rust,  in  response  to  the  look,  repeated  the  question.  '  Is 
there  nothing  more  to  be  done,  in  that  farce  called  the  law  ? 
Is  there  no  farther  blow  to  be  struck  for  life  ? ' 

*  We  can  appeal,'  replied  the  lawyer ;  *  but  there  is  little 
chance  of  success.'  He  took  Rust  by  the  hand,  and  said  in 
a  soothing  tone :  '  My  poor  friend,  you  must  be  prepared  for 
the  worst ;  for  I  cannot  promise  to  save  your  life.' 

Rust  rose  and  stood  directly  in  front  of  him ;  and  pointing 
to  a  small  coin  which  lay  on  the  table,  said  :  '  Not  the  tenth 
part  of  that  would  Michael  Rust  give  to  have  one  hour 
added  to  his  life ;  but  I  will  not  be  driven  from  it.  I  will 


328  HARRY    II ARSON. 

not  be  beaten  down  and  crushed  ! '  He  stamped  furiously  on 
the  floor. 

'  Fight ! '  said  he,  fixing  his  glaring  eye  on  the  lawyer ; 
'fight  to  the  last;  leave  nothing  untried;  spare  not  gold; 
bribe  —  corrupt  —  suborn  ;  do  any  thing ;  but  do  not  leave 
the  triumph  to  my  enemies.  It 's  that  that  is  tearing  away 
at  my  heart.  It 's  that  which  is  killing  me,'  exclaimed  he, 
bitterly,  shaking  his  hands  over  his  head. 

'  We  shall  leave  nothing  untried,'  said  the  lawyer.  '  Per 
haps  too  we  may  obtain  a  pardon  ;  for  if  ever  a  murder  was 
justifiable,  that  was.' 

'  Pardon  ! '  exclaimed  Rust  with  a  sneer ;  '•pardon  !  Be 
cause  I  defended  my  own  flesh  and  blood ;  because  the  laws 
had  forced  upon  me  the  task  which  they  should  perform,  I 
must  die,  or  sue  for  pardon  !  A  noble  thing  is  law  ! ' 

The  lawyer  was  silent.  He  felt  that  Rust's  own  previous 
criminal  life  had  been  his  worst  enemy,  and  that  it  was  the 
disclosure  of  his  own  evil  plans,  which  had  been  in  every 
mouth  long  before  the  trial,  that  had  done  much  to  harden 
the  feelings  of  the  jury,  who  in  another  case  might  have 
stretched  a  point  to  save  him. 

Merely  repeating  what  he  had  already  said,  that  every 
thing  should  be  tried,  he  took  his  leave. 

Some  time  had  elapsed.  The  appeal  was  made,  and  was 
unsuccessful ;  the  decision  of  the  court  was  affirmed  ;  and 
nothing  was  left  but  that  the  sentence  of  the  law  should  be 
enforced.  Rust  still  maintained  his  indifferent  bearing.  All 
attempts  to  move  him  to  any  thing  like  repentance  were 
unavailing.  Pious  men  had  conversed  with  him,  but  he  had 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  their  words ;  clergymen,  anxious  even 
at  the  last  hour  to  turn  his  thoughts  to  holier  things,  had 


HARRY    HARSON.  329 

called  upon  him,  but  were  equally  unsuccessful ;  and  at  last 
he  forbade  them  admission. 

It  was  just  about  dusk,  on  the  day  previous  to  that  fixed 
for  his  execution,  that  he  was  sitting  in  his  cell,  when  he 
was  aroused  by  the  opening  of  the  door.  He  looked  up,  and 
observed  a  dim  figure  just  inside  the  door,  cowering  as  if  with 
fear ;  but  it  was  so  dark  that  he  could  not  distinguish  more 
than  its  mere  outline. 

'  What  do  you  want  ? '  demanded  he,  harshly.  'Am  I  a 
wild  beast,  that  you  have  come  to  stare  at  me? ' 

The  only  reply  was  a  low,  suppressed  cry,  as  of  one  en 
deavoring  to  stifle  down  severe  pain. 

Rust  rose  up,  advanced  to  the  figure,  and  with  a  sudden 
jerk  threw  off  the  cloak  which  enveloped  it.  It  was  his  own 
child. 

*  So  it 's  you ! '  said  he,  bitterly,  as  he  turned  from  her. 
'And  you've  come  to  see  your  work.     Look  at  me  well. 
You  Ve  succeeded  to  your  heart's  content.' 

The  girl  endeavored  to  clasp  his  hand,  but  he  flung  her 
from  him ;  and  facing  her,  said :  '  What  you  have  to  say, 
say  at  once,  and  be  gone.  There  is  little  policy  in  seeking 
me  out  now,  for  I  have  nothing  to  give.' 

The  girl  cast  herself  at  his  feet,  in  a  passion  of  grief.  '  Oh  ! 
father !  dear  father !  I  ask  nothing  except  your  forgiveness. 
Give  me  that,  for  the  love  of  God  !  I  ask  nothing  more. 
Do  not  refuse  me  that,  as  you  hope  for  forgiveness  of  your 
own  sins ! ' 

*  There  was  a  time,'  said  Rust,  '  when  I  could  not  have 
resisted  those  tones ;  when  I  could  have  refused  you  nothing. 
My  very  heart's  blood  was  yours;  but  I  am  changed  — 
changed  indeed ;  since  not  a  single  spark  of  tenderness  for 
you  is  left ;  not  even  the  shadow  of  the  love  which  I  once 
bore  to  you.    You  are  a  stranger  to  me ;  or,  worse  than  that, 


330  HARRY    EARS  ON. 

you  are  she  whose  wanton  conduct  has  placed  me  here,  and 
to-morrow  will  lead  me  to  the  gallows.7 

The  girl  rose  up  hastily,  and  said  in  a  quick,  husky  voice  : 

*  Farewell,  father ;  I  will  not  stay  until  you  curse  me,  for 
I  fear  it  may  come  to  that.     May  God  forgive  both  you  and 
me  !     I  have  done  wrong,  and  most  bitterly  have  I  suffered 
for  it.' 

She  caught  his  hand,  pressed  it  to  her  lips,  which  were 
hot  as  fire,  and  left  the  cell. 

That  was  the  last  time  that  the  father  and  daughter  ever 
met.  But  was  it  fancy?  —  did  the  lip  of  that  hard  man 
tremble,  and  was  that  a  tear  that  he  brushed  from  his  eye, 
as  he  bent  his  head  forward  and  listened  to  the  receding 
footsteps  of  his  child  ? 

The  gaoler  soon  afterward  brought  in  a  light,  and  asked 
Kust  if  he  wanted  any  thing ;  and  on  being  answered  in  the 
negative,  went  out. 

The  night  wore  on  heavily.  Rust  heard  the  clock,  as  its 
iron  tongue  struck  the  successive  hours  from  his  life.  At 
last  the  hour  of  midnight  sounded.  He  took  out  his  watch 
wound  it  up,  and  set  it. 

'  Your  life  will  last  longer  than  mine,'  said  he,  as  he  held 
it  to  the  light,  and  examined  the  face.  He  then  placed  it 
on  the  table,  and  leaning  his  head  on  his  hand,  contemplated 
it  for  a  long  time.  Time  was  hurrying  on  ;  for  while  he  was 
sitting  thus,  the  clock  struck  —  one.  He  looked  about  the 
room;  went  to  the  door,  and  listened;  then  resumed  his 
seat,  and  thrusting  his  hand  in  his  bosom,  drew  out  a  small 
vial,  containing  a  dark  liquid.  He  held  it  to  the  light ; 
shook  it ;  smiled ;  and  applying  it  to  his  lips,  swallowed  its 
contents. 

*  I  '11  disappoint  the  sight-seers,'  said  he.     He  raised  the 
light ;  took  a  long  and  earnest  survey  of  the  room ;  undressed 


HARRY    H ARSON.  331 

himself;  sat  on  the  edge  of  his  bed  for  a  moment,  apparently 
in  deep  thought;  then  got  into  bed  and  drew  the  cover 
closely  about  him. 

'  Now,  then,'  said  he,  '  the  dream  of  life  is  past.  I  '11  soon 
know  whether  there  is  any  waking  from  it.' 

These  were  his  last  words  ;  for  when  the  cell  was  opened 
in  the  morning,  he  was  dead  in  his  bed.  As  in  life,  so  in 
death,  his  own  evil  acts  clashed  with  his  interests ;  for  at  an 
early  hour  in  the  morning  a  messenger  arrived  with  a  par 
don.  In  consideration  of  the  heinous  nature  of  the  provoca 
tion  which  had  led  to  the  commission  of  Rust's  crime,  and 
of  the  inadequate  punishment  inflicted  by  the  laws  for  such 
offences,  the  Governor  had  remitted  his  sentence. 


332  HARRY    II ARSON. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

ON  the  day  but  one  after  Rust's  death,  Mr.  Kornicker  was 
very  busy  in  his  office.  His  coat  was  off;  his  hat  was  on  a 
chair,  and  in  it  was  his  snuff-box,  a  black  silk  neckcloth,  and 
a  white  handkerchief,  not  a  little  discolored  by  the  presence 
of  snuff  and  the  absence  of  water.  In  one  corner  of  the  room 
lay  a  confused  heap,  consisting  of  bed,  bedding,  and  various 
odds  and  ends  o'f  wearing  apparel ;  and  from  these  Mr.  Kor 
nicker,  after  due  reflection  and  calculation  as  to  the  order  in 
which  to  make  his  choice,  selected  article  after  article.  First, 
he  spread  upon  the  floor  his  counterpane,  then  his  blanket, 
then  a  sheet  not  a  little  akin  in  appearance  to  his  handker 
chief,  and  then  his  bed  :  upon  these  he  piled  his  apparel,  in 
a  confused  heap,  and  proceeded  to  roll  the  whole  into  a  large 
ball,  which  he  secured  with  a  piece  of  rope.  '  Now  then,  the 
moving 's  begun,'  said  he,  opening  the  door  and  rolling  the 
bundle  into  the  entry.  '  The  premises  are  ready  for  the  next 
tenant.' 

Having  brushed  his  knees  with  the  palm  of  his  hands,  and 
dusted  his  hands  by  knocking  them  together,  he  put  on  his 
neckcloth,  coat,  and  hat ;  pocketed  his  snuff-box  and  hand 
kerchief,  walked  into  the  entry,  locked  the  door,  put  the  key 
over  it,  as  he  had  always  been  in  the  habit  of  doing ;  seated 
himself  upon  his  bundle,  with  his  back  leaning  against  the 
wall ;  and  immediately  lapsed  into  a  fit  of  deep  abstraction, 
which  he  occasionally  relieved  by  kicking  his  heels  against 
the  floor,  shaking  his  head  in  a  sudden  and  emphatic  man 
ner,  or  inhaling  his  breath  rapid'y  and  violently,  producing 
a  sound  blending  the  qualities  of  a  snort  and  a  whistle. 


HARRY    H ARSON.  333 

'  So,'  said  he,  at  length  rousing  himself  from  his  abstrac 
tion,  at  the  same  time  nodding  his  head  at  Rust's  office,  *  his 
cake  being  dough,  our  bargain 's  up ;  and  here  am  I,  Edward 
Kornicker,  Esquire,  attorney  and  counsellor-at-law,  a  man  of 
profound  experience,  severe  knowledge  of  the  world,  of  great 
capacity  in  various  ways,  though  of  small  means  —  I  think  I 
may  say  of  d d  small  means  —  once  more  in  the  mar 
ket  ;  for  sale  to  the  highest  bidder.  Such  a  valuable  com 
modity  is  not  to  be  met  with  every  day.  If  any  gentleman,' 
continued  he,  raising  his  hand  and  looking  around  at  an 
imaginary  audience,  '  is  extremely  desirous  of  securing  the 
eminent  talents  of  one  of  the  most  prominent  young  men  of 
the  day  —  not  exactly  new,'  added  he,  running  his  eye  over 
his  rusty  coat,  *  but  wonderfully  serviceable ;  no  cracks  nor 
flaws,  no  pieces  broken  off — here  is  an  opportunity  which 
will  not  occur  again.  This  is  only  a  scratch  on  the  surface,' 
said  he,  as  he  thrust  his  finger  into  a  small  hole  in  his  coat- 
sleeve  ;  '  the  article  itself  is  warranted  to  be  perfectly  sound, 
and  of  the  best  quality.  How  much  is  bid  ?  —  how  much  for 
the  promising  young  man  aforesaid  ?  How  much  ?  One 
thousand  dollars  ?  Five  hundred  ?  Two  fifty  ?  —  one  ?  — 
fifty  ?  It  won't  do,'  said  he,  in  a  melancholy  tone  ;  '  strike 
him  down  to  me.  The  gentleman 's  bought  himself  in ; 
there  being  no  demand  for  the  article  in  this  market,  he 
thinks  of  disposing  of  himself  to  some  respectable  widow  lady 
with  a  small  family  and  a  large  purse.  He  may  alter  his 
mind,  but  that 's  his  present  intention.' 

Here  Mr.  Kornicker  concluded  his  rather  extraordinary 
soliloquy  bv  plunging  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  dropping 
into  a  subdued  whistle  ;  in  the  course  of  which  his  thoughts 
seemed  to  have  taken  altogether  a  different  channel ;  for  it 
was  not  long  before  he  said,  as  if  in  continuance  of  some 
unuttered  train  of  thought : 


334  HARRY    HARSON. 

1  Well,  old  fellow,  I  promised  you  to  look  after  your  girl, 
although  you  did  n't  seem  much  struck  with  the  offer.  But 
I  '11  stick  to  my  promise ;  although,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  do  n't 
exactly  know  how  to  commence.  But  nothing  will  be  done 
by  sitting  on  this  bundle.  So  I  '11  to  my  work  at  once.' 

He  rose  up  hastily,  and  was  descending  the  stairs,  when  he 
abruptly  turned  back,  went  up  to  his  luggage,  and  after  eye 
ing  it  for  a  minute,  said  : 

'  It 's  a  hazardous  business  to  leave  you  here.  You  can't 
be  distrained  on,  nor  levied  on,  because  you're  exempt  by 
law.  So  you  are  safe  from  landlords  and  creditors ;  the  law 
makes  you  exempt  from  being  stolen  too ;  but  thieves  con 
sider  themselves,  like  members  of  parliament,  out  of  the  reach 
of  law.  There 's  the  rub.  You  might  be  stolen ;  and  I  very 
much  regret  to  say,  that  the  gentleman  who  should  lay  vio 
lent  hands  on  you  would  walk  off  with  all  my  goods,  chattels, 
lands,  tenements,  and  hereditaments ;  but  I  Ve  no  where  to 
put  you,  and  as  I  expect  to  sleep  in  this  entry,  you  must 
take  your  chance.  So,  good-bye,  old  acquaintance,  in  case 
you  and  I  should  never  meet  again.' 

Having  in  a  very  grave  manner  shaken  one  corner  of  the 
counterpane,  as  if  it  were  the  hand  of  an  old  friend,  he  gave 
his  head  a  sudden  jerk,  to  settle  his  hat  in  the  right  place, 
and  descended  the  stairs. 

The  task  which  Kornicker  had  imposed  upon  himself  was 
by  no  means  easy ;  but,  firm  in  his  purpose  of  fulfilling  his 
promise,  he  shut  his  eyes  to  all  difficulties,  and  commenced 
his  pursuit. 

The  first  place  to  which  he  went  was  the  prison,  for  he 
hoped  that  the  keeper  of  it  might  know  something  about  her, 
or  that  she  might  have  left  her  address  there,  in  case  her 
father  wished  to  see  her  when  he  was  imprisoned.  But  he 
was  disappointed.  They  could  tell  him  nothing,  except  that 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  335 

Rust  neither  asked  for  her  nor  mentioned  her,  and  had 
always  refused  to  see  her.  She  had  never  succeeded  in  gain 
ing  admittance  to  him,  except  on  the  night  of  his  death,  when 
the  gaoler,  a  fellow  unfit  for  his  office,  for  he  had  some  human 
feeling  left,  unable  to  resist  her  tears  and  entreaties,  had  let 
her  in  unannounced,  as  mentioned  in  the  last  chapter.  She 
had  left  the  cell  abruptly,  had  hurried  off,  and  had  never  re. 
turned.  '  God  help  the  poor  child ! '  exclaimed  the  man  as 
he  told  the  story.  'Such  hearts  as  hers  were  made  for 
heaven,  not  for  this  world.  I  have  a  daughter  of  her  age  ; 
and  even  if  she  had  robbed  a  church,  I  could  n't  have  treated 
her  as  that  man  treated  his  child.' 

The  man  looked  at  Kornicker,  to  observe  the  effect 
of  his  last  remark ;  but  probably  that  gentleman  viewed  the 
robbing  of  a  church  in  a  less  heinous  light  than  the  gaoler, 
for  he  made  no  comment  on  it,  but  after  a  pause  said : 

'So  that's  all  you  know?' 

The  man  nodded. 

'  Good-morning  to  you,  Sir,'  said  Kornicker ;  and  he 
walked  straight  out  of  the  building,  and  had  crossed  several 
streets  before  he  had  made  up  his  mind  what  to  do  next. 
This  however  was  soon  settled,  and  he  buttoned  his  coat 
tightly,  and  pulled  his  hat  firmly  on  his  head,  drew  on  a  pair 
of  shabby  gloves,  and  performed  a  number  of  those  little  acts 
which  in  ancient  times  were  known  under  the  head  of  *  gird 
ing  up  his  loins,'  preparatory  to  setting  out  for  his  next  point 
of  destination,  which  was  the  girl's  former  home,  the  place 
where  Rust  had  committed  the  murder.  It  was  many  miles 
off ;  and  the  distance  which  Rust,  under  the  whip  and  spur 
of  fierce  passions,  had  traversed  without  trace  of  fatigue,  drew 
from  his  clerk  many  a  sigh,  and  many  an  expression  of 
weariness. 

When  he  got  there,  he  found  the  house  deserted.     He 


336  HARRY    HA  R  SON. 

entered  it,  for  there  was  no  one  there  to  hinder  it,  but  the 
rooms  were  empty  and  dismantled.  The  house  had  been 
hired  by  Rust,  and  no  sooner  was  he  in  the  gripe  of  the  law, 
than  creditors  innumerable,  who  like  birds  of  prey  were 
biding  their  time,  kept  in  check  by  the  unbending  character 
of  their  debtor,  came  flitting  in  from  every  quarter ;  seized 
and  sold  the  furniture,  and  left  the  house  desolate.  A  single 
dark  stain  upon  the  library  floor,  where  the  murdered  man 
had  fallen,  was  all  that  was  left  to  tell  a  tale  of  the  past. 
The  dust  had  gathered  thickly  on  the  walls,  as  if  preparing 
to  commence  a  slumber  of  years ;  and  as  Kornicker  went 
out,  the  rats  scampered  through  the  hall,  startled  at  the 
tread  of  a  stranger. 

With  a  heart  as  heavy  as  his  limbs,  as  he  thought  of  the 
past  life  of  the  girl  who  had  once  tenanted  this  house,  and 
then  fancied  what  her  present  fate  must  be,  Kornicker  set 
out  on  his  return.  *  If  it  had  been  me,'  said  he,  pausing  to 
take  a  last  look  at  the  lonely  house ;  *  if  it  had  only  been 
Edward  Kornicker  who  was  thus  cast  adrift,  to  kick  his  way 
through  the  world  with  empty  pockets,  and  without  a  sou, 
to  say  to  him  God-speed,  or  '  I  'm  sorry  for  you,'  it  would 
have  been  right  and  proper,  and  no  one  would  have  any 
cause  to  grumble  or  find  fault ;  but  this  being  a  girl,  with 
no  money,  and  consequently  with  no  friends,  no  experience 
as  /  have,  it's  a  very  hard  case  —  a  very  hard  case,  indeed. 

Having  arrived  at  this  conclusion,  Kornicker  took  off  his 
hat,  wiped  his  forehead,  snuffed,  and  set  out  on  his  return. 

Day  after  day  for  several  weeks  he  prosecuted  his  inqui 
ries  without  success ;  and  just  when  he  was  in  despair, 
chance  led  him  to  success.  In  the  course  of  his  rambles,  he 
encountered  a  person  who  had  been  at  Rust's  trial,  and  hap 
pened  to  speak  about  him ;  for  now  that  the  criminal  was 
dead  and  in  his  grave,  when  public  opinion  could  be  of  no 


HARRY    H ARSON.  337 

service  to  him,  many  who  had  hunted  him  down  began  to 
view  less  harshly  the  crime  which  had  led  to  his  death ;  and 
this  man  was  one  of  the  number.  He  said  that,  although 
he  deserved  punishment  for  his  previous  evil  deeds,  yet  the 
best  and  purest  act  of  his  life  had  been  that  by  which  he 
had  struck  down  the  destroyer  of  his  child. 

'  Poor  thing ! '  said  he,  '  she  must  have  led  a  miserable 
life  since  her  father's  death.  I  have  met  her  several  times 
since  then  in  the  street,  but  that  was  several  weeks  ago; 
and  then  she  was  very  feeble,  scarcely  able  to  walk  :  perhaps 
she 's  dead  now.' 

Kornicker  waited  only  long  enough  to  ascertain  that  she 
lived  in  a  certain  out-of-the-way  part  of  the  town,  which  the 
man  designated,  and  thither  he  directed  his  steps,  and 
resumed  his  search  ;  and  after  several  days  spent  in  fruitless 
inquiries,  he  discovered  her. 

The  house  in  which  he  found  her  was  a  small  ruinous 
building,  sagged  and  jutting  forward,  as  if  struggling  tc 
sustain  itself  against  time  and  dilapidation.  The  windows 
were  broken ;  the  doors  and  shutters  unhung,  except  a  soli 
tary  one  of  the  latter,  which  creaked  as  it  flapped  to  and 
fro  in  the  wind ;  and  this  was  the  home  of  Rust's  child. 

Kornicker  ascended  the  rickety  stairs,  and  paused  at  the 
door  of  a  room  which  a  slipshod  woman  had  pointed  out  as 
that  of  the  '  murderer's  daughter.'  He  knocked,  but  there 
was  no  reply ;  he  knocked  again,  but  all  was  silent.  Then 
he  opened  the  door  and  looked  in. 

It  was  a  small,  dingy  room,  unfurnished,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  a  bed  on  the  floor,  and  a  single  chair,  on  which  stood 
a  candle  whose  flaring  light  served  only  to  add  to  the  gloom 
of  the  room  by  revealing  its  wretchedness.  The  girl  was  in 
bed;  her  hair  lying  in  tangled  masses  about  the  pillow. 
Her  cheeks  were  sunken  and  colorless,  and  her  eyes  deep-set 
16 


338  HARRY    HARSON. 

and  glowing,  as  if  all  Ilint  was  left  of  life  was  concentrated 
in  them. 

Kornicker  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then  pushed  the 
door  open  and  walked  in.  The  girl  looked  listlessly  up,  buf 
did  not  notice  him ;  for  she  turned  her  head  away  with  f 
weary,  restless  motion,  and  did  not  speak.  Kornicker  wenl 
to  the  bed,  got  on  his  knees  beside  it,  and  took  her  hand  in 
his.  As  he  did  so,  he  observed  that  it  was  very  thin  and 
shrunken,  and  that  the  large  veins  stood  out  like  cords.  It 
was  hot  as  fire.  '  You  're  very  ill,'  said  he,  in  a  low  tone. 
'I 'm  afraid  you  Ve  very  ill.' 

'  I  'm  dying  of  thirst,'  said  the  girl,  pointing  to  an  empty 
pitcher  which  stood  on  the  floor.  '  Give  me  water ;  the 
want  of  it  is  driving  me  mad.  No  one  has  been  near  me 
to-day.  I  tried  to  get  it  myself,  but  could  not  stand.' 

Kornicker  waited  to  hear  no  more,  but  seizing  the  pitcher, 
darted  out  to  a  pump,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  came  back 
again  with  it  filled  to  the  brim.  The  girl's  eye  grew  even 
more  lustrous  than  before  as  she  saw  it,  and  she  attempted 
to  rise,  but  was  unable. 

'  You  must  excuse  ceremony,'  said  Kornicker,  as  he  placed 
his  arm  under  her  back  and  supported  her  while  he  held  the 
pitcher  to  her  lips.  '  Nursing  is  n't  in  my  line.' 

The  girl  swallowed  the  water  greedily,  and  then  sank  back 
on  the  pillow  exhausted. 

'Have  you  a  doctor?'  inquired  Kornicker,  placing  the 
pitcher  on  the  floor. 

*  No,'  answered  she  feebly ;  *  I  have  no  money ;  the  last 
went  yesterday.     I  'm  deserted  by  all  now.' 

*  Not  quite,'  exclaimed  Kornicker,  slapping  his  hand  earn 
estly  on  his  knee,  while  he  experienced  a  choking  sensation 
about  the  throat ;  '  not  while  I  'm  left.     I  'm  sorry  I  a'n't  a 
woman,  for  your  sake ;  but  as  I  do  n't  happen  to  be,  I  hope 


HARRY    H ARSON.  339 

you  '11  make  no  objections  on  that  score ;  I  '11  look  after  you 
as  if  you  were  my  own  sister.' 

It  was  the  first  word  of  kindness  that  the  girl  had  heard 
for  a  long  time,  and  the  tears  came  in  her  eyes. 

'  There,  there,  do  n't  cry,'  said  Kornicker.  '  It  bothers  me  5 
I  do  n't  know  what  to  do  when  women  cry.  But  you  have  n't 
a  doctor ;  that  will  never  do.  Keep  up  your  heart,'  said  he, 
rising;  'I'll  return  presently.'  Saying  this,  and  without 
waiting  for  a  reply,  he  left  the  room. 

Arriving  in  the  street,  his  first  impulse  was  not  only  to 
feel  in  his  pockets,  but  with  the  utmost  care  to  turn  them 
inside  out,  and  to  examine  them  narrowly. 

'  Not  a  copper  —  pockets  to  let ! '  said  he,  restoring  them 
to  their  former  condition,  after  a  long  and  unsuccessful  search. 
*  But  this  girl  must  be  looked  after ;  that 's  settled.  Now 
then,'  said  he,  in  a  very  meditative  mood,  '  who 's  able  to  do 
it,  and  will  ? ' 

This  seemed  a  question  not  easily  answered,  for  he  stood 
for  more  than  a  minute  in  profound  thought,  in  endeavoring 
to  solve  it ;  but  apparently  making  up  his  mind,  he  hurried 
along  the  street.  The  direction  which  he  took  was  toward 
the  upper  part  of  the  city,  and  he  was  some  time  in  reaching 
his  destination,  which  was  no  other  than  Harry  Harson's 
house.  He  crossed  the  court-yard  and  knocked  at  the  door, 
which  was  opened  by  Harson. 

'  I  want  a  word  with  you,'  said  Kornicker,  abruptly. 

Harson  told  him  to  come  in ;  led  the  way  to  his  sitting- 
room,  and  pointing  to  a  chair,  told  him  to  be  seated. 

'  I  have  n't  time,'  said  Kornicker,  shaking  his  head.  '  Do 
you  know  me  ? ' 

'  I  've  seen  you,  but  I  can't  recollect  where.' 

'Here?  said  Kornicker,  *  here,  in  this  room.  I  breakfasted 
here.  I  'm  Michael  Rust's  clerk.' 


340  HARRY    H ARSON. 

'  Then  you  can  scarcely  expect  a  cordial  reception  from 
me]  said  Harson,  coldly. 

'  I  do  n't  care  what  sort  of  a  reception  you  give  me? 
replied  Kornicker ;  '  you  may  kick  me,  if  it  will  be  any  com 
fort  to  you,  provided  you  only  do  what  I  ask.  Michael 
Rust  is  dead,  and  his  daughter  is  now  dying,  with  scarcely 
clothes  to  cover  her,  or  a-  bed  to  lie  in ;  without  a  cent  to 
buy  her  food  or  medicine ;  without  a  soul  to  say  a  single 
word  of  comfort  to  her.  I  would  n't  have  troubled  you,  old 
fellow,'  continued  he,  with  some  warmth,  at  the  same  time 
turning  out  his  pockets,  '  if  I  had  a  cent  to  give  her.  The 
last  I  had  I  spent  in  getting  a  breakfast  this  morning ;  and 
although  it 's  the  only  meal  I  Ve  eaten  to-day,  damme  if  I 
would  have  touched  it  if  I  had  thought  to  have  found  her 
in  such  circumstances.  But  since  you  won't  help  her,  you 
may  let  it  alone ;  I  'm  not  so  hard  run  but  that  I  can  do 
something  for  her  yet.' 

Kornicker  had  worked  himself  up  into  such  an  excite 
ment,  owing  to  Harson's  cold  reception  of  him,  that  he  took 
it  for  granted  his  request  was  to  be  refused ;  and  having 
thus  vented  his  feelings,  he  turned  on  his  heel  to  go,  when 
the  old  man  laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

'Nature  puts  noble  hearts  in  very  rough  cases,'  said 
Harson,  his  eyes  glistening  as  he  spoke.  *  You  're  a  good 
fellow,  but  rather  hasty.  I  did  n't  say  I  would  not  assist  the 
poor  girl ;  on  the  contrary,  you  shall  see  that  I  will.  She 
has  no  doctor  ? ' 

'No.' 

'  No  nurse  ? ' 

4  No.' 

Harson  rang  the  bell.     The  housekeeper  answered  it. 

'  Martha,  put  on  your  hat  and  cloak,'  said  Harson ;  '  I  want 
you  to  sit  up  with  a  sick  person  to-night.  Bring  a  basket, 


HARRY    HARSON.  341 

and  lights,  and  cups,  and  every  thing  that 's  necessary  for  one 
who  has  nothing.  I  '11  return  in  five  minutes ;  you  must  be 
ready  by  that  time.  Now  then,  Sir,  come  along.' 

He  went  into  the  street,  and  walked  rapidly  on,  turning 
one  or  two  corners,  but  without  going  far,  and  at  last  knocked 
at  the  door  of  a  small  house. 

'A  very  excellent  fellow  lives  here,'  said  he  to  Kornicker  ; 
*  he 's  a  doctor ;  and  if  this  girl  can  be  saved,  he  '11  do  it. 
Hark  !  there  he  comes.  I  hear  his  step.' 

The  door  was  opened  by  the  Doctor  himself,  and  a  few 
words  sufficed  to  explain  matters  to  him. 

'  I  '11  be  ready  in  a  minute,'  said  he,  darting  into  the  house 
and  as  suddenly  returning,  struggling  his  way  into  the  arms 
of  a  great-coat.  'Now  then,'  exclaimed  he,  buttoning  a 
single  button,  and  dashing  into  the  street,  *  which  way  ? ' 

'Where  does  she  live?'  asked  Harson.  'I'll  go  back 
and  bring  the  nurse.' 

Kornicker  told  him,  and  was  hurrying  off,  when  Harson 
touched  his  arm,  and  leading  him  a  few  steps  aside,  said  in 
a  low  voice :  '  You  seem  somewhat  straitened  for  money,  Mr. 
Kornicker  ;  I  wish  you  would  accept  a  loan  from  me.'  He 
extended  a  bank-note  to  him. 

Kornicker  buttoned  his  pockets  up  very  closely,  not 
omitting  a  single  button,  and  then  replied  coldly:  'I  ask 
charity  for  others,  not  for  myself.' 

'Come,  come,'  said  Harson  kindly,  'you  mustn't  bear 
malice.  I  did  not  act  well  toward  you  at  first ;  you  must 
forget  it ;  and  to  show  that  you  do  so,  you  must  take  this 
loan  from  me.' 

'I  don't  wish  to  borrow,'  replied  Kornicker. 

'Well,  I'm  sorry  for  it,'  said  Harson,  taking  his  hand; 
'but  you  're  not  angry  ? ' 


342  HARRY    If  ARSON. 

'  No,  no,  old  fellow  ;  it 's  not  an  easy  matter  to  keep  angry 
with  you ;  you  're  a  trump ! ' 

*  Perhaps  you  '11  sup  with  me  when  we  return  ? '  said  the 
old  man,  earnestly. 

'  I  '11  see  how  the  girl  is,'  replied  Kornicker ;  '  good-bye. 
We  're  losing  time.' 

Saying  this,  he  shook  hands  with  Harson,  and  joining  the 
Doctor,  they  set  out  at  a  rapid  pace  for  the  girl's  abode. 

They  reached  it  without  interruption,  other  than  a  short 
delay  on  the  part  of  the  Doctor,  who,  being  of  a  belligerent 
disposition,  was  desirous  of  stopping  to  flog  a  man  who  had 
intentionally  jostled  him  off  the  side-walk.  Kornicker,  how 
ever,  by  urging  upon  him  the  situation  of  the  girl,  had  in 
duced  him  to  postpone  his  purpose,  not  a  little  to  the  relief 
of  the  offender,  who  in  insulting  him  had  intended  to  insult 
only  an  inoffensive  elderly  person,  who  could  not  resent  the 
affront. 

'  Can  it  be  possible  that  any  thing  human  tenants  such  a 
den  as  this  ? '  said  the  Doctor,  looking  at  the  half-hung  door 
of  the  girl's  abode,  and  listening  to  the  wind  as  it  sighed 
through  broken  window-panes  and  along  the  hall. 

*  Come  on,  and  you  '11  see,'  replied  Kornicker ;  and  seizing 
him  by  the  arm,  he  led  him  half-stumbling  up  the  stairs,  and 
finally  paused  at  the  girl's  room. 

'  Look  in  there,  if  you  want  to  see  comfort,'  said  he,  with 
an  irony  that  seemed  almost  savage,  from  the  laugh  which 
accompanied  it.  '  Is  n't  that  a  sweet  sick-chamber  for  one 
who  all  her  life  has  had  every  thing  that  money  could  buy  ? ' 

The  Doctor  glanced  in  the  room,  then  at  the  fierce,  ex 
cited  face  of  his  companion.  '  Come,  come,'  said  he,  in  a 
kind  tone,  taking  Kornicker's  hand ;  '  do  n't  give  way  to 
these  feelings.  She  '11  be  well  taken  care  of  now.  Harry 
]  larson  never  does  a  good  action  by  halves.  Come  in.' 


HARRY    H ARSON.  343 

•  He  pushed  the  door  open  very  gently,  and  went  to  the 
bed.  The  girl  seemed  sleeping,  for  she  did  not  move.  He 
took  the  candle,  and  held  it  so  that  the  light  fell  on  her 
face.  He  then  placed  his  hand  gently  upon  her  wrist.  He 
kept  it  there  for  some  moments,  then  held  up  the  light 
again,  and  looked  at  her  face ;  after  which  he  placed  it  on 
the  floor,  rose  up,  and  took  a  long  survey  of  the  room. 

'  It 's  a  wretched  place,'  said  he,  speaking  in  a  whisper. 
'  She  must  have  suffered  terribly  here.' 

'  This  is  the  way  the  poor  live,'  said  Kornicker,  in  a  low, 
bitter  tone  ;  '  this  is  the  way  she  has  lived  ;  but  we  '11  save 
her  from  dying  so.' 

The  Doctor  looked  at  him,  and  then  turned  away  and  bit 
his  lip. 

*  What  are  you  going  to  do  for  her  ? '  demanded  Kornick 
er,  after  a  pause  :  '  have  you  medicine  with  you  ? ' 

*  She  requires  nothing  now,'  said  the  Doctor,  in  a  tone 
scarcely  above  a  whisper.     '  She  's  dead  ! ' 

Kornicker  hastily  took  the  light,  and  bent  over  her.  He 
remained  thus  for  a  long  time ;  and  when  he  rose,  his  eyes 
were  filled  with  tears. 

'I'm  sorry  I  left  her,'  said  he,  in  a  vain  effort  to  speak  in 
his  usual  tones.  '  It  was  very  hard  that  she  should  die 
alone.  I  acted  for  the  best;  but  d  —  n  it,  I'm  always 
wrong ! ' 

He  dashed  his  fist  across  his  face,  walked  to  the  window, 
and  looked  out. 

At  that  moment  the  door  opened,  and  Harson  entered, 
his  face  somewhat  attempered  in  its  joyous  expression ;  and 
close  behind  followed  the  housekeeper  with  a  large  basket. 

'  How  is  she  ? '  asked  he,  in  a  subdued  tone. 

Kornicker  made  no  reply,  but  looked  resolutely  out  of  the 
window,  and  snuffed  profusely.  It  would  not  have  been 


344  HARRY    HARSON. 

manly  to  show  that  the  large  tears  were  coursing  down  his 
cheeks.  Harson  threw  an  inquiring  glance  at  the  Doctor 
who  answered  by  a  shake  of  the  head  :  '  She  was  dead  when 
we  got  here.' 

Harson  went  to  the  bed,  and  put  back  the  long  tresses 
from  her  face.  There  was  much  in  that  face  to  sadden  the 
old  man's  heart.  'Had  it  been  that  of  an  old  person,  of  one 
who  had  lived  out  her  time,  and  had  been  gathered  in  in 
due  season,  he  would  have  thought  less  of  it ;  but  it  was  sad 
indeed  to  see  one  in  the  first  blush  of  youth,  scarcely  more 
than  a  child,  stricken  down  and  dying  in  such  a  place,  and 
so  desolate. 

'  Was  there  no  one  with  her  —  not  a  soul  ? '  inquired 
Harson,  earnestly,  as  he  rose;  'not  one  human  being,  to 
breathe  a  word  of  comfort  in  her  ear,  or  to  whisper  a  kind 
word  to  cheer  her  on  her  long  journey  ? ' 

The  Doctor  shook  his  head  :  '  No  one.'  Harson's  lips 
quivered,  but  he  pressed  them  tightly  together,  and  turning 
to  Kornicker,  said : 

*  Come,  my  good  fellow,  you  must  struggle  against  your 
feelings ;  you  must  not  be  downcast  about  it.  She 's  better 
off  than  if  she  had  lived  —  much  better  off.' 

'  I  'm  not  in  the  least  downcast,'  replied  Kornicker,  in  a 
very  resolute  manner  ;  '  I  do  n't  care  a  straw  about  it.  She 
was  nothing  to  me ;  only  it 's  a  little  disagreeable  to  be  liv 
ing  in  this  world  without  a  soul  to  care  for,  or  a  soul  that 
cares  for  you  ;  and  then  there  was  some  satisfaction  in  being 
of  use  to  some  one,  and  in  feeling  it  was  your  duty  to  see 
that  no  one  imposed  on  her  or  ill-treated  her.  But  no 
matter ;  it 's  all  over  now.  I  suppose  it 's  all  right ;  and  I 
feel  quite  cheerful,  I  assure  you.  But  you  '11  look  to  her, 
will  you  ?  I  can  be  of  no  farther  use  here,  and  I  'd  rathef 
go.' 


HARRY    HA  R  SON  345 

'  I  will,'  said  Harson. 

*  You  won't  let  her  be  buried  as  a  pauper,  I  hope  ? ' 

'  No,  upon  my  honor,  she  shall  not,'  replied  Harry. 

'  Very  well  —  good-night.' 

Harson  followed  him  down  the  stairs,  and  again  en 
deavored  to  force  a  sum  of  money  upon  him  ;  but  Kornicker 
was  resolute  in  his  refusal,  ner  could  he  be  induced  to  go 
home  with  Harson  that  evening.  He  said  that  he  was  not 
hungry. 

After  several  ineffectual  efforts,  the  old  man  permitted 
him  to  depart,  with  the  internal  resolution  of  keeping  his 
eye  on  him,  and  of  giving  him  a  helping  hand  in  the  world ; 
a  resolution  which  we  may  as  well  mention  that  he  carried 
out ;  so  that  in  a  few  years  Mr.  Kornicker  became  a  very 
vivacious  gentleman,  of  independent  property,  who  fre 
quented  a  small  ale-house  in  a  retired  corner  of  the  city, 
where  he  snuffed  prodigally,  and  became  a  perfect  oracle, 
and  of  much  reputed  knowledge,  from  the  sagacious  manner 
in  which  he  shook  his  head  and  winked  on  all  subjects. 


346  HARRY    H ARSON. 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

IT  was  a  clear,  cloudless  night,  and  the  stars  twink 
led  and  glistened  as  if  the  sky  were  full  of  bright  eyes, 
looking  gladly  down  upon  the  world,  and  taking  a  share 
in  all  its  gayety  and  happiness.  There  was  no  moon,  or 
rather  the  moon  was  a  reveller,  and  kept  late  hours,  and 
might  be  detected  skulking  through  the  sky  at  about  one  or 
two  in  the  morning,  when  she  should  have  been  abed ;  and 
in  consequence  of  her  neglect  of  duty,  the  streets  were  dark, 
except  where  here  and  there  the  shop  windows  threw  out 
bright  streams  of  light,  revealing  now  a  wrinkled  brow,  now 
a  fat,  jolly  face,  and  now  a  pair  of  bright  sparkling  eyes,  glow 
ing  cheeks,  and  lips  like  a  rose-bud,  as  the  throng  of  people 
flitted  past  them ;  for  an  instant  clear,  distinct,  with  face, 
feature,  and  form  plainly  visible,  and  then  lost  in  the  dark 
ness.  Some  paused  to  look  in  the  windows,  some  to  chat ; 
and  it  might  have  been  observed,  that  those  who  lingered 
longest  in  the  light  were  young,  and  such  whose  faces  could 
bear  both  the  test  of  light  and  scrutiny.  But  amid  that 
crowd  was  a  single  man,  who  followed  the  same  course  as 
the  rest;  skulking  in  the  dark  corners,  darting  rapidly 
across  the  streams  of  light,  with  his  head  bent  down  and 
his  hat  slouched,  as  if  he  desired  to  avoid  notice.  When  he 
reached  those  places  which  were  comparatively  less  thronged, 
he  paused  and  leaned  against  the  iron  railings  of  the  houses, 
and  more  than  once  turned  and  retraced  his  steps,  as  if  he 
had  changed  or  mistaken  his  route.  He  was,  as  far  as 
could  be  judged  from  the  sudden  and  uncertain  glimpses 


HA  RRY    H  A  R  rt  ON.  347 

afforded  of  his  person,  tall  and  gaunt,  with  sunken  eyes, 
long,  unshorn  beard,  and  a  face  disfigured  by  a  deep 
gash.  He  had  the  appearance  of  one  broken  down  by  ill 
health  or  suffering,  and  his  panting  breath,  as  he  stopped, 
showed  that  he  was  taxing  his  strength  by  the  pace  at  which 
he  went.  Although  he  paused  often,  and  often  turned  back,  , 
yet  in  the  end  he  resumed  his  journey,  and  finally  reached  the 
upper  part  of  the  city.  There  he  struck  into  a  dark  cross- 
street.  Once  free  from  the  crowd,  and  where  few  could 
observe  him,  his  smothered  feelings  broke  out ;  and  mutter 
ing  to  himself,  grating  his  teeth,  blaspheming,  now  striking 
his  clenched  fists  as  if  aiming  a  blow,  he  darted  on.  He  did 
not  pause  until  he  came  to  the  house  of  no  less  a  person 
than  Harry  Harson.  He  crossed  the  door-yard  hastily,  as 
if  he  feared  his  resolution  might  give  way ;  opened  the  front 
door  —  for  Harry  had  no  enemies,  and  his  door  was  un 
bolted  —  and  entered  the  outer  room.  The  door  communi 
cating  with  the  inner  room  was  open,  so  that  he  could  see 
within ;  and,  perhaps,  never  was  there  a  greater  contrast 
than  between  the  occupants  of  those  two  rooms.  In  one 
was  a  man  eaten  up  by  fierce  passions,  desperate  and  hard 
ened,  with  all  that  is  noble  in  the  human  soul  burnt  out  as 
with  a  hot  iron  \  in  the  other  sat  an  old  man  whose  benevo 
lent  features  beamed  with  good-will  to  all  mankind.  There 
was  scarcely  a  wrinkle  in  the  broad,  full  brow  ;  the  hair  was 
sprinkled  with  gray ;  but  what  of  that  ?  His  eye  was  bright ; 
and  his  heart  —  God  bless  thee,  old  Harry  Harson. !  what 
need  to  speak  of  thy  heart  ? 

The  intruder  had  come  in  so  noiselessly,  although  his 
motions  were  rapid  and  bold,  that  Harson  had  not  heard 
him,  but  sat  reading  a  newspaper,  and  was  not  a  little 
startled  in  looking  over  it  to  see  a  man  seated  within  a  few 


348  HARRY    U ARSON. 

feet  of  him,  and  gazing  at  him  with  eyes  as  wild  and  bright 
as  those  of  a  maniac. 

'  Who  are  you,  in  the  name  of  Heaven  ? '  ejaculated  he, 
too  surprised  even  to  rise,  and  looking  at  the  stranger  a«  if 
he  still  doubted  the  reality  of  his  being  in  that  spot. 

The  man  laughed  savagely :  '  Look  at  me,  my  master ; 
look  at  me  well ;  you  Ve  see  me  afore.  Try  and  recollect  it.' 

Harson's  embarrassment  was  not  of  long  duration,  and  he 
examined  the  man  from  head  to  foot.  A  vague  recollection 
of  having  met  him  some  where,  mingled  with  an  indefinable 
feeling  of  suspicion  and  pain,  crossed  Harson's  mind  as  he 
studied  the  sunken  features  which  were  submitted  unshrink 
ingly  to  his  scrutiny.  He  thought,  and  pondered,  and  won 
dered;  and  still  the  man  remained  unmoved.  He  looked 
again ;  the  man  changed  his  position,  and  the  light  fell  upon 
him  from  another  direction.  Harson  knew  him  at  once. 
He  started  up  :  '  Murderer,  I  know  you  ! ' 

The  man  was  on  his  feet  at  the  same  moment. 

'  Down  to  your  seat,  Sir ! '  said  he,  in  a  loud,  savage  tone. 
*  You  're  right ;  but  you  cannot  take  me  alive,  nor  will  mor 
tal  man.  In  that  room,'  said  he,  in  a  low  tone,  and  pointing 
toward  the  dark  stair-case  which  led  to  the  upper  part  of 
the  house,  '  I  killed  Tim  Craig  —  the  only  man  that  ever 
loved  me.  He 's  been  after  me  ever  since ! '  He  leaned  his 
face  toward  Harson,  and  looking  stealthily  over  his  shoulder, 
said,  in  a  whisper  :  *  He  's  waiting  for  me  at  the  door.  He 
sat  down  on  the  steps  when  I  came  in.  I  do  n't  know  why 
I  came  here,  but  he  made  me  do  it,  and  I  must  see  where  I 
killed  him.  It  was  n't  me.  It  was  Rust ;  it  was  Rust. 
Hark ! '  He  cast  a  hasty  glance  in  the  room  behind  him. 
'I'm  going,  Tim,'  said  he.  'Quick!  quick!  give  me  the 
light ! ' 


HARRY   H ARSON.  349 

Seizing  the  candle,  before  Harson  could  prevent  him,  he 
rushed  out  of  the  room,  and  sprang  up  the  stairs  two  at  a 
time.  Harson  followed ;  but  before  he  reached  the  door  of 
the  upper  room,  with  a  yell  so  loud  and  unearthly  that  it 
made  the  old  man's  heart  stand  still,  the  murderer  darted 
out ;  his  face  livid,  his  hair  bristling,  his  eyes  starting  with 
horror.  With  a  single  bound  he  cleared  the  stairs ;  crossed 
the  antechamber ;  the  gate  swung  shut  heavily,  and  he  was 
gone !  And  this  was  the  last  that  was  ever  known  of  Bill 
Jones.  A  few  months  afterward,  the  body  of  a  man  was 
found  floating  in  one  of  the  docks,  and  was  supposed  to  be 
his ;  but  it  was  so  mutilated  and  disfigured,  that  it  was  im 
possible  to  ascertain  the  fact  with  any  certainty,  and  it  was 
deposited  in  the  earth,  with  none  to  claim  it  or  care  for  it, 
and  with  no  mark  to  designate  that  the  soil  above  it 
shrouded  a  heart  which  had  once  throbbed  with  all  the 
hopes  and  fears  and  passions  that  were  burning  in  the 
bosoms  of  those  who  were  carelessly  loitering  above  its  rest 
ing-place. 


850  HARRY    HARSON. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

NED  SOMERS  had  followed  Harson's  advice  in  not  making 
his  visits  to  Rhoneland's  too  frequent.  But  whatever  may- 
have  passed  between  him  and  Kate,  and  even  if  they  did 
occasionally  meet  in  the  street  and  stop  to  speak,  and  some 
times  to  hold  conversations  which  were  neither  short  nor 
uninteresting  to  themselves,  that  is  a  matter  between  them 
selves,  with  which  we  have  nothing  to  do.  Certain  it  is, 
however,  that  as  Ned  cooled  off  in  his  intimacy  with  Rhone- 
land,  he  appeared  to  rise  in  the  old  man's  estimation ; 
and  he  grew  more  cordial  when  they  did  meet.  It  may 
have  been  that  the  suspicions  implanted  by  Rust  were 
gradually  giving  way  before  the  frank,  honest  nature  of  the 
young  man;  or  it  may  have  been  that  gratitude  for  the 
assistance  which  Somers  had  lent  (and  which  Harson  was 
very  particular  to  give  its  full  weight)  in  disentangling  him 
from  the  toils  of  Rust ;  or  it  may  have  been  the  secret  in 
fluence  of  Harson,  who  ventured,  whenever  it  could  be  done, 
to  speak  a  good  word  for  Ned ;  or  it  may  have  been  the 
drooping  face  of  his  child,  which  he  was  wont  more  than 
ever  to  study  anxiously,  that  gradually  softened  his  feelings ; 
but  there  is  no  doubt  that,  to  Kate's  surprise,  he  one  day 
told  her  to  get  him  pen,  ink,  and  paper,  and  to  draw  the 
table  in  front  of  him,  as  he  was  going  to  write  a  letter, 
And  it  must  be  confessed  that  Kate's  color  heightened  and 
her  heart  beat  fast  when  he  had  finished  the  letter,  directed 
it  to  Mr.  Edward  Somers,  and  then  asked  if  she  knew  the 
address  of  Somers,  which  of  course  she  did ;  although  she 


HARRY   H ARSON.  351 

hesitated  and  stammered  as  if  the  answer  were  the   most 
difficult  thing  in  the  world. 

But  her  surprise  was  scarcely  greater  than  that  of  Ned 
himself,  when  a  boy  came  to  him  with  a  letter  which  ran 
thus: 

*  MY  DEAR  EDWARD  :  Come  to  me  as  soon  as  you  can ;  I 
wish  to  see  you  on  a  matter  of  much  importance  to  both 
of  us. 

*  Yours  truly,  JACOB  RHONELAND.' 

Ned  felt  something  bouncing  about  in  a  very  queer  man 
ner  directly  under  his  ribs,  as  he  read  this  note  ;  but  the  sen 
sation  was  not  so  painful  as  to  prevent  his  obeying  it  with  a 
speed  that  was  perfectly  marvellous ;  for  to  Rhoneland  it 
seemed  that  the  letter  could  scarcely  have  reached  its  desti 
nation  before  Ned  was  back  with  it  in  his  hand. 

'  You  got  my  note,'  said  he  gravely,  as  Somers  entered, 
his  face  flushed  with  the  rapidity  with  which  he  had  come. 

'  I  have.' 

'  Do  n't  go,  Kate,'  said  he  to  his  daughter,  who,  with  an 
inkling  of  what  was  to  follow,  was  stealing  away.  *  What 
I  have  to  say  relates  to  both  of  you.' 

'  Some  time  since,'  said  he,  rising  and  standing  in  front  of 
Ned, '  I  wronged  you,  by  making  charges  against  you  which 

I  am  now  convinced  were  false.     My  mind  was  poisoned  by 
one  who  has  gone  to  his  long  account,  and  whose  evil  deeds 
may  sleep  with  him.     For  this,'  said  he,  extending  his  hand, 

I 1  ask  your  pardon ;  much  more  frankly  and  freely  than  I 
did  on  the  day  when  we  met  at  Mr.  Harson's.' 

Ned  took  the  proffered  hand ;  at  the  same  time  pouring 
out  a  confusion  of  words,  the  substance  of  which  was,  that 
he  had  taken  no  offence ;  that  he  knew  Jacob  was  misled 
by  others ;  that  he  was  not  only  perfectly  willing,  but  very 


HARRY    UARSON.  352 

happy,  to  make  up  the  matter,  and  say  no  more  about  it ; 
which  no  doubt  was  very  true,  for  within  six  feet  of  him 
stood  Kate,  with  her  soft  eyes  fixed  on  his  face,  and  her  little 
mouth  dimpled  with  smiles,  as  she  observed  how  swimmingly 
matters  were  going  on.  And  could  he  be  crusty  and  dog 
ged  ?  or  could  he  cherish  a  grudge  against  her  father  ?  The 
thing  was  impossible.  The  extended  hand  was  grasped, 
and  grasped  warmly. 

'Another  thing  I  have  to  speak  of/  said  Rhoneland,  relax 
ing  somewhat  at  the  cordial  tone  of  Ned's  feelings.  '  It  is 
but  a  short  time  since  I  learned  the  full  extent  of  my  obliga 
tions  to  you,  for  the  part  you  took  in  unmasking  the  cha 
racter  of  Rust,  which  led  to  a  disavowal  of  his  charges 
against  me,  which,  false  as  they  were,  were  hard  indeed 
to  bear,  and  were  breaking  me  down.  I  have  not  finished,' 
said  he,  raising  his  hand  to  prevent  the  interruption  which 
Somers  was  endeavoring  to  make ;  '  let  me  complete  what 
I  have  to  say,  and  you  may  speak  as  much  as  you  like, 
afterwards.  I  will  not  thank  you,  for  thanks  are  but  words, 
and  too  often  mean  nothing.  Is  there  any  thing  that  I  can 
c?o,  to  lessen  my  indebtedness  to  you  ?  or  is  there  any  way 
in  which  I  can  pay  it  off  altogether?' 

He  stopped,  and  looked  earnestly  in  Ned's  face.  The  red 
blood  dashed  up  to  Somers'  very  forehead,  and  he  could 
scarcely  breathe  for  the  thumping  of  his  heart,  as  the  idea 
crossed  him  that  now  was  the  time  to  ask  for  Kate  ;  nor  was 
his  agitation  at  all  diminished  by  casting  a  glance  at  her, 
and  seeing  her  cheeks  crimson  and  her  eyes  downcast,  as  if 
she  anticipated  what  was  going  on  in  his  mind.  It  must  be 
confessed,  however,  that  had  Rhoneland  had  no  other  clue 
to  his  wishes  than  that  afforded  by  his  words,  he  would  have 
been  very  much  in  the  dark ;  for  although  Ned  attempted  to 
apeak  out  boldly,  his  lips  trembled  very  much,  and  his  voice 


HARRY    HA  R  SON.  353 

was  not  as  obedient  as  he  could  have  wished ;  and  all  that 
was  distinctly  audible  was  the  girl's  name. 

'Why,  lad,  what  ails  thee?'  asked  Rhoneland,  unbending, 
as  he  observed  the  embarrassment  of  his  guest.  *  You  used 
to  be  as  bold  as  a  lion.  Come  here,  Kate,'  said  he  to  his 
daughter ;  '  this  young  fellow  has  lost  his  voice ;  can  you 
tell  me  what  he  wants  ? ' 

It  was  now  Kate's  turn  to  grow  confused,  and  the  color  to 
deepen  on  her  cheek ;  nor  did  she  utter  a  word. 

'  Young  man,'  continued  Rhoneland,  in  a  grave  tone,  4 1 
did  not  send  for  you  to  trifle  with  your  feelings.  You  love 
my  daughter,  and  would  ask  for  her,  and  you  fear  to  do  so, 
lest  the  request  should  be  refused.  She  is  yours.  Treat  her 
kindly,  and  keep  even  a  shadow  of  sorrow  from  falling  upon 
her  brow.  If  you  do  not,  an  old  man's  curse  will  rest  upon 
you ;  and  even  though  I  be  dead,  and  mouldering  in  my 
grave,  where  my  voice  cannot  reach  you,  that  silent  curse 
will  follow  you.'  He  turned  abruptly  away,  and  left  the 
room. 

Ned  Somers  took  Kate's  hand  in  his;  passed  his  arm 
about  her  waist,  and  drew  her  to  him  in  so  singular  a  man 
ner  that  their  lips  could  not  but  meet ;  and  not  only  once, 
but  at  least  some  half  a  dozen  times. 

'  So  you  're  mine  at  last,  Kate ! '  said  he,  looking  into  her 
very  eyes,  whenever  they  were  raised  enough  for  him  to  do 
so.  '  Did  I  not  tell  you  to  cheer  up ;  and  that  all  would  be 
well  ?  Did  I  not  say  so ;  and  was  n't  I  right  ?  And  now, 
Kate,'  said  he,  in  a  less  confident  tone,  *  your  father,  though 
a  most  worthy  old  gentleman,  is  somewhat  whimsical,  and 
might  change  his  mind  ;  so  when  shall  it  be  ? ' 

Kate's  reply  was  so  very  low,  that  it  reached  no  ears 
except  those  of  Ned ;  but  whatever  it  was,  it  is  certain  that 
on  that  day  month  they  had  been  married  a  week,  and  were 


354  HARRY    H ARSON. 

deep  in  preparations  for  a  merry-making  to  be  held  on  that 
very  evening  at  Rhoneland's  old  house,  which  had  been  so 
furbished  up  and  renovated,  under  the  auspices  of  the  young 
couple,  that  every  thing  in  it  seemed  to  shine  again.  A 
party  at  Jacob  Rhoneland's  !  It  was  a  thing  unheard-of,  and 
produced  quite  a  sensation  in  the  drowsy  part  of  the  town 
where  he  lived.  Never  had  a  household  been  in  such  a 
fluster  as  his  was.  What  deep  consultations  were  held  to 
prevent  the  old  man  —  who  seemed  to  have  grown  quite 
cheerful  and  light-hearted,  and  chirruped  about  the  house 
like  some  gay  old  cricket  —  from  meddling  in  every 
thing,  and  to  throw  dust  in  his  eyes,  so  as  to  make  him 
suppose  that  he  was  having  every  thing  in  his  own  way, 
when  in  fact  he  was  having  nothing.  And  then  what  a  time 
it  took,  and  what  entreaties,  to  prevail  on  him  to  let  the 
great  wooden  chest,  studded  with  brass  nails,  which  he  never 
took  his  eye  from,  be  removed  to  an  upper  chamber,  to  make 
room  for  their  guests !  But  Harry  Harson,  who  was  in  the 
thick  of  all  the  doings,  and  in  and  out  a  dozen  times  in  an 
hour ;  rubbing  his  hands  and  enjoying  the  bustle,  giving 
advice,  suggesting  this  thing  and  that,  and  setting  every 
thing  wrong ;  managed  to  get  the  great  chest  out  of  the 
way,  for  he  dragged  it  up  stairs  under  Rhoneland's  very 
nose,  and  in  the  teeth  of  his  remonstrances ;  and  depositing 
it  in  a  little  out-of-the-way  room,  very  difficult  of  access,  by 
reason  of  the  angles  and  turns  in  the  entry,  and  the  size  of 
the  chest,  told  Rhoneland  that  if  he  wanted  it  below  he 
might  take  it  there  himself;  but  that  it  was  better  where  it 
was,  and  much  more  safe  and  out  of  the  way ;  in  which 
opinion  Rhoneland  finally  coincided. 

Betimes  Kate  came  down  stairs  to  receive  her  guests, 
looking  so  charmingly,  and  her  eyes  flashing  with  such  mali 
cious  brightness,  that  on  meeting  her  in  the  entry,  Ned  stopped 


HARRY    H ARSON.  355 

to  kiss  her,  and  tell  her  that  she  was  looking  '  gloriously ; ' 
a  performance  and  observation,  by  the  way,  which  he  had 
already  repeated  half  "a  dozen  times  in  the  course  of  the 
last  hour.  By  twos  and  threes  the  guests  began  to  arrive, 
and  went  up  stairs.  There  was  a  great  clatter  above,  where 
they  were  taking  off  their  things.  It  took  a  wonderful  time 
to  remove  the  hats  and  shawls ;  for  although  for  a  long  time 
up  they  went,  none  came  down.  There  must  have  been 
thirty  assembled  above  stairs.  At  last  Harry  Harson,  who 
was  in  the  room  with  Ned  and  Kate,  dressed  in  his  best 
black  suit,  and  looking  as  young  and  merry  as  any  of  them, 
vowed  that  he  would  not  stand  it,  and  sallied  up  stairs  and 
sent  them  down  in  a  drove.  How  bright  and  cheerful  they 
all  were!  how  the  congratulations  poured  in  upon  Ned  and 
Kate  ;  and  hopes  for  his  future  happiness,  and  that  he  might 
have  a  large  fortune,  and  a  large  family  to  help  him  take 
care  of  it ! 

A  loud  scraping  and  jingling  announced  that  the  music 
was  there,  and  put  a  stop  to  such  flummery  as  conversation. 
The  young  folks  were  going  into  the  business  of  the  evening. 
Clem,  the  little  stunted  black  fiddler  with  rings  in  his  ears,  was 
mounted  on  one  chair ;  the  big,  fat  fiddler,  who  nadled  with 
his  eyes  shut,  was  seated  on  another ;  and  the  goggle-eyed 
negro,  with  a  self-satisfied  face,  who  simpered  on  every  body, 
and  flourished  the  tambourine,  was  placed  like  an  umbrella 
in  the  corner,  to  be  out  of  the  way. 

The  fat  fiddler  called  out  for  the  gentlemen  to  choose 
their  partners  for  a  quadrille.  Then  came  the  long  pre 
monitory  screeching  of  the  fiddle-bow  across  the  cat-gut ; 
then  the  slight,  tremulous  jingle  of  the  tambourine,  as  if  the 
goggle-eyed  negro  were  dying  to  begin ;  then  the  bustling 
and  hustling,  and  squeezing  of  the  couples,  until  they  had 
obtained  their  places  in  the  dance.  Then  the  scientific  look 


356  HARRY    H ARSON. 

of  the  fat  fiddler  as  he  opened  his  eyes  and  surveyed  the 
whole,  to  see  that  all  was  right ;  then  the  slight  clearing  of 
his  throat,  as  he  threw  his  head  on  one  side,  bellowed  out 
'  right  and  left,'  and  forthwith  plunged  into  the  matter,  might 
and  main.  Away  he  went ;  but  fast  and  furious  at  his  heels 
followed  the  little  stunted  fiddler ;  and  loud  above  the  din  of 
both,  rose  the  rattle  of  the  tambourine.  '  Right  hand  across  ! 
forward  two ;  balancez ;  ladies'  chain ;  forward  four ;  dos-a- 
doz ;  chassez  to  the  right ;  cross  over ;  all  round ; '  here, 
there,  every  where,  and  all  over  —  he  was  up  to  it  all.  In 
vain  the  dancers  fairly  flew ;  the  fat  fiddler  was  equal  to  all 
emergencies ;  he  never  lagged  ;  he  was  sometimes  too  fast, 
but  never  —  no,  not  for  a  single  instant  —  was  he  too  slow. 

'  Whew  ! '  said  he,  as  he  gave  the  final  flourish  of  his  bow, 
and  laying  it  aside,  wiped  his  forehead  on  his  coat-sleeve, 
and  called  for  a  tumbler  of  cold  water.  And  thereupon  the 
stunted  fiddler  and  the  tambourine  made  the  same  request ; 
the  latter  suggesting  that  his  glass  might  be  tempered  with 
a  '  small  spirt  of  gin,'  without  hurting  his  feelings. 

In  that  dance,  the  lightest  step  and  merriest  voice  was 
that  of  Harson,  who  led  out  the  bride,  and  footed  it  there 
with  the  best  of  them ;  and  who  through  the  whole  evening 
was  bustling  around  the  room,  with  a  kind  word  for  every 
one,  and  as  much  at  home  as  if  the  house,  and  the  company, 
and  even  the  bride,  belonged  to  him.  And  in  fact,  one  or 
two  of  the  guests  —  but  they  were  unsophisticated  people 
from  the  country  —  were  for  some  time  under  the  delusion 
that  Harry  was  the  bridegroom,  instead  of  the  quiet  young 
fellow  who  was  seen  walking  about  the  rooms,  talking  to  the 
disagreeable  old  women,  and  getting  partners  for  the  ugly 
young  ones,  without  their  knowing  it ;  but  all  in  such  an 
unobtrusive  manner  that  he  seemed  quite  a  nobody  when 
compared  with  Harson. 


HARRY    H ARSON.  357 

But  there  must  be  an  end  even  to  the  merriest  meetings ; 
and  when  they  had  kept  it  up  until  the  night  had  got  among 
the  small  hours,  they  began  to  drop  off.  And  here,  amid 
the  adieus  of  departing  guests,  we  will  take  our  leave  of  the 
young  couple ;  for  it  is  far  pleasanter  to  bid  farewell  to  those 
whose  friendship  we  have  cherished  when  hope  is  strong  and 
bright,  than  when  care  or  disappointment  has  flung  ita 
shadow  over  their  hearts. 


358  HARRY    H ARSON. 


CHAPTER    THE    LAST. 

A  FEW  weeks  had  elapsed,  and  a  small  group  was 
gathered  one  evening  at  Harson's  fireside.  It  was  composed 
of  three  persons  beside  Harson.  The  first  was  a  man  of 
about  fifty;  he  might  have  been  younger;  for  the  heavy 
wrinkles  which  were  scored  across  his  forehead  may  have 
been  the  fruit  of  trouble  and  care,  for  they  were  almost  too 
deep  for  his  years ;  his  mouth  was  firmly  compressed,  like 
that  of  one  in  the  habit  of  mastering  strong  feelings ;  and 
the  whole  character  of  his  face  would  have  been  stern,  but 
for  his  dark-gray  eye,  which  at  times  brightened  up  almost 
to  childish  playfulness.  This  was  Mr.  Colton,  the  father -of 
Harson's  protege,  Annie.  The  child  herself  was  seated  on 
Harson's  knee,  sound  asleep,  with  her  head  resting  on  his 
breast.  The  only  other  person  in  the  group  was  the  wife  of 
Mr.  Colton.  She  was  quite  young,  and  had  once  possessed 
great  beauty  —  the  beauty  of  youth  and  happiness ;  but  that 
was  gone,  and  in  its  place  was  the  patient  look  of  one  who 
had  suffered  much,  and  in  silence.  She  spoke  seldom,  and 
in  a  low  tone,  so  soft  and  musical  that  one  regretted  when 
the  voice  ceased. 

'  Your  letter,'  said  Mr.  Colton,  in  continuation  of  a  previous 
conversation,  « put  an  end  to  all  my  plans  respecting  my  poor 
niece.  I  had  hoped  to  assist  her ;  for,  knowing  her  father's 
hostility  to  her,  I  feared  that  she  might  be  in  want.  Her 
death  was  a  very  melancholy  one.' 

He  looked  in  the  fiff  in  deep  thought,  and  for  a  short  time 
a  silence  ensued  which  no  one  seemed  inclined  to  break. 


HARRY    EARS  ON.  359 

*  I  never  saw  her,'  said  his  wife,  after  some  moments ;  *  I 
think  you  did.' 

'Yes,  once  —  at  the  trial,'  replied  he,  uttering  the  last 
words  with  an  effort,  as  if  the  subject  were  painful.  *  She 
was  very  beautiful.' 

*  Did  she  resemble  her  father  ? '  inquired  Mrs.  Colton. 
'Perhaps  I  can  settle  that  question  more  easily  than  any 

one,'  said  Harson,  rising  up,  '  by  letting  you  judge  for  your 
self.' 

He  went  to  a  small  curtain  which  hung  against  the 
wall,  and  drawing  it  aside,  disclosed  a  portrait  of  Rust's 
daughter  —  the  same  which  Rust  had  brooded  over  with 
such  mingled  emotions  on  the  night  previous  to  the  murder. 
The  same  childlike,  innocent  smile,  played  round  the  small, 
dimpled  mouth ;  the  same  calm,  thoughtful  expression  of 
intellect  mingled  with  gentleness,  shone  out  of  the  eyes.  All 
was  as  it  was  when  father  and  child  last  looked  upon  it  — 
the  criminal  and  her  accuser.  Every  line  was  unaltered ; 
but  where  were  they  ?  DUST  !  They  had  acted  their  part  on 
earth ;  their  love,  their  hate,  their  fears,  their  remorse,  were  past. 
The  tide  of  time  was  hurrying  on,  bringing  life  and  death 
and  hopes  and  fears  to  others,  but  sweeping  from  the  earth 
all  trace  of  their  footsteps.  To  them  for  ever,  ay,  even  until 
the  last  trump,  time  and  thought,  and  care  and  feeling,  had 
no  existence ! 

Mrs.  Colton's  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  she  gazed  upon  the 
picture.  '  She  deserved  a  happier  fate,'  said  she,  in  a  subdued 
tone,  as  if  she  feared  to  disturb  the  spell  which  seemed  to 
hang  about  it. 

'  It  was  ordained  for  the  best,'  replied  Harson,  in  a  grave 
tone,  as  he  regarded  the  portrait  with  a  solemn  interest. 
Then,  after  a  moment,  he  added :  '  That  was  she,  before 
want  and  suffering  had  laid  their  iron  finger  upon  her. 


3CO  HARRY    HARSON. 

When  I  saw  her,  she  was  dead.  She  was  very  beautiful  even 
then ;  but  in  the  short  time  that  had  elapsed  since  her 
father's  imprisonment,  the  work  of  years  had  been  per 
formed;  she  seemed  much  older  and  thinner,  and  more 
care-worn.' 

*  How  did  you  get  this  ? '  inquired  Mr.  Colton,  pointing  to 
the  picture. 

'A  friend  of  mine,  the  person  who  aided  the  girl  in  her 
last  moments,  accidentally  learned  that  it  was  for  sale,  and 
begged  me  to  buy  it.  He  was  too  poor  to  do  it,  and  I  was 
willing  to  gratify  him  ;  and  so  the  picture  became  mine.' 

Mr.  Colton  looked  at  him  for  a  few  moments,  as  if  on  the 
point  of  making  some  remark,  and  then  walked  to  the  other 
end  of  the  room  and  took  a  seat  without  a  word.  He  was 
aroused  by  the  child  climbing  on  his  knee,  and  putting  her 
arms  about  his  neck. 

1  God  protect  you,  my  child  ! '  said  he,  laying  his  hand 
affectionately  on  her  head;  'may  you  never  know  the  misery 
which  has  fallen  upon  that  poor  girl ! ' 

The  words  were  intended  to  be  inaudible,  but  they  reached 
the  ear  of  his  wife,  who,  going  up  to  him,  and  laying  her  hand 
on  his  arm,  said  in  a  low  voice :  '  Come,  come,  George,  do 
not  give  way  to  these  feelings.  You  must  not  be  gloomy.' 

He  looked  at  her  sadly,  and  then  placing  his  finger  on  his 
heart,  said  :  'Is  not  what  has  been  going  on  here,  for  years, 
enough  to  wither  to  the  root  every  feeling  of  cheerfulness, 
so  that  it  should  never  again  put  forth  a  blossom  ? ' 

'  Hush !  hush  ! '  interrupted  his  wife,  in  a  whisper ;  '  if  you 
have  suffered,  you  have  gained  at  last  what  you  have  always 
praved  for ;  while  he,  who  caused  it  all,  has  paid  the  pe 
nalty  of  his  misdeeds.  Remember  what  his  fate  was.' 
She  pointed  to  the  picture  :  *  Remember,  too,  the  fate  of  his 


HARRY    H ARSON.  361 

only  child.     'George,  ".George!    his  punishment  has   been 
terrible,  even  in  this  world  ! ' 

'  You  are  right,  Mary  —  God  forgive  me !  I  '11  think  of 
it  no  more.  He  and  I  were  nursed  in  the  same  arms,  and 
watched  by  the  same  fond  mother.  From  the  bottom  of 
my  heart  I  forgive  him.  It  would  be  sacrilege  to  her 
memory,  for  me  to  harbor  an  unkind  feeling  toward  even  a 
stranger,  if  she  had  loved  him.' 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  addressing  Harson, 
inquired  : 

'  Who  is  this  Mr.  Kornicker  ? ' 

'A  poor  fellow,  with  little  to  help  him  through  the  world 
but  careless  habits  and  a  good  heart.' 

'What  character  does  he  bear?'  inquired  the  other. 

*  Such  as  might  be  expected  from  his  position,'  replied 
Harson;  'full  of  flaws,  but  with  a  vein  of  gold  running 
through  it.  Nature  has  given  him  fine  feelings,  and  Fortune 
unluckily,  has  placed  him  in  a  situation  where  such  feeling* 
are  impediments  rather  than  otherwise.  But  he  is  a  nobU 
fellow  for  all  that.' 

'  Where  can  he  be  found  ? '  asked  his  guest. 

Harson  probably  anticipated  the  object  of  this  inquiry,  foi 
he  said  with  a  laugh  : 

'He  has  been  taken  care  of;  he  has  been  placed  where 
the  means  of  livelihood  and  competence  are  in  his  grasp,  if 
he  will  but  work  for  them.  And  what  is  better  yet,  he  seems 
disposed  to  do  so,  although  not  much  can  be  expected  of  him 
at  first.  I  do  not  think,'  added  he,  'that  it  contributes  to 
the  happiness  of  a  young  man,  with  a  long  life  before  him, 
to  be  altogether  idle.  I  will  do  all  that  I  can  to  help  him ; 
but  he  must  work.  It  will  be  more  easy  for  him  as  he  gets 
used  to  the  traces.' 

The  stranger  acquiesced  in  this  remark,  and  then  added  : 
16 


3,52  HAAAY    H ARSON. 

1 1  will  take  his  address,  nevertheless,  for  I  must  see  him 
when  I  return  to  the  city,  which  will  be  very  shortly  ;  but 
you  seem  to  have  anticipated  me  in  every  thing.  Even  the 
lawyer,  Mr.  Holmes,  declined  to  be  paid  for  his  services.  He 
said  that  this  was  not  strictly  a  business  matter,  and  that 
what  he  had  done  was  out  of  friendship  for  you,  and  that  I 
had  better  pocket  the  fee  and  drop  the  subject ;  at  the  same 
time,  he  said  he  was  going  to  dinner,  and  asked  me  to  join 
him,  which  I  did,  and  a  very  pleasant  time  we  had  of  it.' 

A  good-natured  laugh  was  indulged  at  the  peculiarities 
of  the  old  lawyer,  and  many  stories  told  of  him,  and  of 
others  who  have  figured  in  this  history.  Nor  was  it  until 
the  little  clock  over  the  mantel-piece  seemed  to  give  a 
very  vehement  wag  of  its  pendulum  as  it  struck  twelve,  and 
Spite,  who  had  been  asleep  in  the  corner,  bounced  up, 
alarmed  at  the  lateness  of  the  night,  and  barked  vociferously, 
that  they  dreamed  of  going  to  bed. 

The  strangers  were  Harson's  guests  that  night ;  and  the 
old  man,  having  escorted  them  to  their  room,  and  wished 
them  good-night,  was  himself  soon  in  bed  and  asleep. 

Bright  and  early  the  next  morning,  they  were  astir ;  for 
they  were  to  leave  the  city,  and  Harson  was  up  and  ready  to 
see  them  off.  It  was  a  fine  morning ;  the  trees  were  just 
beginning  to  put  forth  their  spring  leaves,  and  Hie  grass  in 
the  public  squares  was  looking  quite  fresh  and  green,  as  they 
drove  down  to  the  wharf  where  the  steamer  lay,  whizzing 
and  puffing,  and  groaning  as  if  in  mortal  pain,  and  tugging 
at  its  cable  like  some  shackled  sea-monster  struggling  to 
escape  to  its  home  in  the  deep.  Early  as  it  was,  crowds 
were  hurrying  to  and  fro ;  carts  driving  up  and  unloading ; 
porters  staggering  along  with  trunks  and  bales  on  their 
shoulders;  carriages  dashing  up  at  a  gallop,  filled  with 
people  afraid  of  being  too  late,  and  going  off  more  leisurely 


HARRY   H ARSON.  363 

tftar  the  passengers  were  deposited  on  the  wnarf.  People 
were  bustling  hither  and  thither,  elbowing  their  way  to  one 
place,  merely  to  find  out  where  to  elbow  it  to  the  next ; 
friends  were  bidding  each  other  adieu ;  and  in  particular,  a 
stout  lady  from  the  country,  in  yellow  ribbons,  from  the 
upper  part  of  the  boat  was  sending  a  confidential  message 
to  her  family  and  friends  by  a  gentleman  who  stood  in  the 
crowd  some  sixty  yards  off. 

Through  this  throng  the  coach  containing  our  friends 
drove,  and  just  in  good  time,  for  as  they  stepped  on  board, 
the  last  bell  rang. 

'All  aboard  ! '  shouted  the  captain  ;  '  take  in  the  plank.' 

Harson  shook  hands  with  his  friends.  '  God  bless  thee, 
my  child  ! '  said  he,  pressing  Annie  in  his  arms.  The  next 
moment  he  stepped  on  shore  ;  and  the  boat  glided  from  the 
dock,  and  shot  out  upon  the  green  water. 

'Ah,  Annie  ! '  said  the  old  man,  as  he  stopped  waving  his 
hand,  and  turned  away  from  the  river,  '  I  had  hoped  that 
you  would  have  been  mine  own  as  long  as  I  lived ;  but  it 's 
all  right  as  it  is.  Your  brother,'  added  he,  '  I  did  not  miss 
much,  when  his  parents  took  him,  but  you  had  become  a 
part  of  my  home.  Well,  well ! ' 

No  doubt  there  was  a  great  deal  of  hidden  consolation  in 
these  last  words ;  for  Harson's  face  soon  recovered  its  usual 
cheerful  character,  and  he  steadily  trudged  toward  his  home. 

A  few  words  respecting  the  other  characters,  and  our  task 
is  ended. 

Grosket  was  induced  by  Mr.  Colton  to  remove  to  the 
country,  where  an  intercourse  with  different  and  better  men 
than  those  with  whom  he  had  hitherto  associated,  tended  in 
a  great  measure  to  soften  his  character  and  temper  his 
tierce  passions  —  the  offspring  of  persecution  and  suffering. 

Mrs.  Blossom,  at  first  alarmed  by  the  fear  of  the  law,  grew 


.T.4  HARRY    HARSON. 

penitent  and  rigorous  in  the  discharge  of  her  moral  obliga 
tions  to  society  ;  but  the  law  being  a  notorious  sleepy-head, 
and  never  appearing  to  have  its  eyes  open,  she  gradually  fell 
into  her  old  habits,  reopened  her  '  seminary  for  lambs ; '  and 
from  the  great  quantity  of  her  disciples  which  frequent  the 
thoroughfares  of  the  city  at  present,  I  should  judge  is  getting 
along-  prosperously.  Mr.  Snork  was  extremely  desirous  of 
becoming  a  partner  in  the  concern,  and  made  several  over 
tures,  to  that  effect,  which  might  have  been  accepted  by  the 
lady,  had  he  not  objected  to  being  deprived  of  his  eye-sight, 
and  seated  at  a  corner  to  receive  pennies  from  passers-by. 
It  was  in  vain  that  the  lady  represented  to  him  that  this 
would  be  the  making  of  their  respective  fortunes ;  that  blind 
beggars,  particularly  if  they  were  remarkably  disgusting, 
as  was  the  case  with  him,  had  been  known  to  retire  with 
handsome  fortunes,  and  that  some  of  them  even  bought  snug 
little  farms  in  the  country,  and  kept  a  horse  and  '  shay.' 
Mr.  Snork,  however,  was  obstinate ;  his  proposals  were 
accordingly  rejected,  and  he  returned  disconsolately  to  his 
abode,  which  was  now  lonely,  his  wife  having  paid  a  visit  to 
the  penitentiary,  for  the  benefit  of  the  country  air. 

The  widow,  Mrs.  Chowles,  still  lives  in  her  quiet,  blinking 
little  house,  as  cheerful  and  contented  as  ever ;  as  happy  as 
ever  to  hear  Harry's  heavy  step,  and  to  see  his  honest  face 
in  his  old  corner  in  her  parlor  ;  and  although  he  is  no  longer 
accompanied  by  Spite,  who  has  grown  old  and  rheumatic,  so 
that  he  is  unable  to  stir  from  the  chimney-corner,  where  he 
passes  his  time  in  crabbed  solitude,  except  when  he  turns  up 
his  dim  eyes  to  his  old  master,  as  he  hears  his  voice,  and 
feels  his  caressing  hand  on  his  head ;  all  else  is  as  it  was  in 
that  little  household ;  and  that  it  may  long  continue  is  oui 
warmest  wish. 


THE 

SCALP    HUNTERS; 

OR.  ADVENTURES  AMONG  THE  TRAPPERS 

BY   CAPTAIN"  MAYNE  REID, 

AUTHOR  OF  "RIFLE  £ANGKBS,"  "  TKK  WHITE  CHIEF,"  "HUNTERS'  FEAST,"  ETC.,  ETC. 

One  volume,  12mo.,  Beautifully  Illustrated.     Cloth,  Price  $1  25. 


So  marked  was  the  success  of  the  "  RIFLE  RANGERS,"  both  in  this  country  and  in 
Etrope,  that  the  author  was  induced  to  publish  at  an  early  day,  the  volume  whose  title 
heads  this  page ;  a  work  of  more  thrilling  adventure,  bolder  incident,  and  glowing  descrip 
tion  than  had  ever  before*  appeared  in  the  same  field  of  literature.  These  two  books 
jpeedily  achieved  a  high  reputation  for  the  writer,  which  he  has  sedulously  striven  to 
enhance  by  the  publication  of  several  other  works  of  a  somewhat  kindred  character.  In 
ill  of  these  volumes  has  the  powerful  descriptive  faculty  of  the  author  stood  out  in  bold 
relief,  and  marked  him  as  the  DB  FOB  of  AMERICA.  The  Publishers  are  happy  to  say  that 
having  secured  the  right  to  publish  all  of  this  series,  they  are  enabled  to  offer  to  the 
public  a  collection  of  volumes,  which  in  point  of  intense  interest,  are  not  only  unsur 
passed,  but  seldom  equalled.  A  brief  Synopsis  of  Contents  will  be  found  below. 


CHAPTER 

I.  The  Wild  West. 
II.  The  Prairie  Merchants. 
III.  Tl-e  "  Prairie  Fever." 
IV.  Ride  upon  a  Buffalo  Bull. 
V.  In  a  Bad  "  Fix." 
VI.  Santa  Fe. 
VII.  The  Fandango. 
VIII.  Seguin,  the  Scalp-Uunter. 
IX.  Left  Behind. 
X.  The  Del  Norte. 
XI.  The  "Journey  of  Death.'' 
XII.  Zoe. 

XIII.  Seguin. 

XIV.  Love. 

XV.  Light  and  Shade. 
XVI.  An  Autobiography 
XVII.  Up  the  Del  Norte» 
XVIII.  Geography  and  Geology. 
XIX.  The  Scalp-Hunters. 
XX.  Sharp-Shooting. 
XXI.  A  S>«at  a  la  Tell. 
XXII.  A  Feat  a  la  Tail. 

XXIII.  The  Programme. 

XXIV.  El  Sol  and  La  Luna. 
XXV.  The  War-Trail. 

XXVI.  Three  Days  in  the  Trap 
XXVII.  The  Diggers. 
JCXV1II.  Dacoma. 

XXIX.  A  Dinner  with  two  Dishes. 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER 
XXX. 

XXXI. 
XXXII. 
XXXIII. 
XXXIV. 
XXXV. 
XXXVI. 
XXXVII. 
XXXVIII. 
XXXIX. 
XL. 
XLl. 
XLII. 
XL1II. 
XLIV. 
XLV. 
XLVI. 
XLVII. 
XLVIII. 
XL1X. 
L. 
LI. 
LII. 
LIII. 
LIV. 
LV. 
LVI. 

vm. 


Blinding  the  Pursuer— A  Trap 
per's  Ruse. 

A  Buffalo  "  Surround." 
Another  "  Coup." 
A  Bitter  Tap. 
The  Phantom  City. 
The  Mountain  of  Gold. 
Navajoa. 

The  Night  Ambuscade. 
Adele. 

The  White  Scalp. 
The  Canon  Fight. 
The  Barranca. 
The  Foe. 
New  Misery. 
The  Flag  of  Truce. 
A  Vexed  Treaty. 
A  Conflict  with  closed  Doors. 
A  Queer  Encounter  in  a  Cave. 
Smoked  Out. 

A  Novel  Mode  of  Equation. 
A  Fast  Dye. 

Abiouishing  the  Natives. 
Running  a  Muck. 
A  Conflict  upon  a  Cliff. 
An  Unexpected  Rencontre. 
The  Rescue. 
El  Paso  Del  Norte. 
Touching  the  Chords  of  Memory. 


The  above  work  will  be  forwarded  by  Mail,  free  of  postage,  on 
receipt  of  price. 

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THE    RIELE    BANGERS, 

BY    CAPTAIN    MAYNE    REID. 

AUTHOR  OF  THE  "  SCALP   HUNTERS,"   "  HOSIERS'  FEAST,"  ETC.,  ETC. 

BeaiAifully  Embellished  with  Illustrations  on  Plate  Paper.     Bouna  in 
cloth,  Price  $1  25. 

THE  RIFLE  RANGE.RS,  first  published  in  England,  produced  a  great  sensation  there,  and 
was  eagerly  sought  after.  It  is  a  brilliant  effort,  and  places  the  author  in  the  first  rank 
of  our  most  able  writers. 

The  work  Is  remarkable  for  stirring  and  wild  adventures,  many  of  which  the  writer 
personally  passed  through;  and  running  through  the  whole,  there  is  a  vein  of  quiet 
humor,  which  relieves  the  more  fearful  parts  of  the  narrative.  And  his  female  charac 
ters  1  oh,  how  lovely !  such  as  could  belong  orjly  to  the  sunny  South ;  we  are  much  in 
doubt  whether  the  dark  eyes  of  Guadalupe,  or  the  blue  ones  of  Mary  of  the  Light 
would  most  suit  our  fancy.  Upon  the  whole,  we  commend  the  work  to  our  readers  as  a 
most  interesting  and  readable  book. 

It  is  printed  in  beautiful  style,  with  an  elegant  cover,  and  striking  engravings,  illustra 
tire  of  some  of  the  hair-breadth  escapes  which  the  author  effected. 

CONTE  NTS. 


Adventure  among  the  Creoles. 

A  Volunteer  Rendezvous. 

A  Georgia  Tavern  Keeper. 

Life  in  Lobos — Wonderful  Guyas-Cutis. 

Spy  in  the  Camp. 

Adventure  with  a  Skeleton. 

The  Foiled  Assassin. 

Going  on  the  Scout— The  Traitor. 

Adventure  with  an  Alligator. 

Danger  of  the  fair  Bathers. 

A  Subterranean  Dwelling. 

The  Hurricane — The  Scout. 

New  Way  to  tame  a  Bull. 

A  Brush  with  the  Guerrilleros. 

Herculean  Feat — Running  the  Gauntlet. 

A  Short  Fight  at  "Long  Shot." 

The  Rescue — The  Cobra  di  Capello. 

The  Maiden's  Escape— The  Hacienda, 

Head-Quarters  of  tb-j  Guerrilla 

Chane's  Courtship. 


Dance  of  the  Tagorata. 

Kiss  in  the  Dark-Stiletto  in  Exchange. 

Pursuit — The  Terrible  Bloodhound.*. 

Dreadful  Encounter — An  Indian  Ruse. 

Lupe  and  Luz — A  Tough  Night. 

Disappointment  and  New  Plan. 

A  Fool-hardy  Adventure. 

Help  from  Heaven — Shot  in  the  Dark. 

Captured  by  the  Guerrilleros. 

A  Blind  Ride— A  Maiden's  Wit. 

A  Stampede — New  Way  to  open  a  Letter. 

A  Coup  d'Eclair — Bridge  of  Monkeys. 

Padre  Jarauta — Dreadful  Sentence 

Hanging  by  the  Heels. 

The  Coup  de  Grace — The  Deliverance, 

Love  and  War— Bright  Eyes  Win, 

Bird's-Eye  View  of  a  Battle. 

Wholesale  Capture. 

Duel,  with  a  queer  End 


Address  all  Orders  to 

ROBERT  M.  DE  WITT,  PUBLISHER, 

13  FRANKFORT  STREET. 


W.  H.  TUWOH,  Printer  and  Sterootyper,  Rear  of  48  &  45  Centre  St.,  N.  t. 


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UEIIVS 

SCENES   AND    ADYENTURES 

IN  THE  WEST  AND  SOUTHWEST. 

THE   RIFLE   RANGERS. 

Benutifutty  Embellished  with  Eight  Splendid  Illustrations  on  Plate  Paper  .     $1  25. 
This  work  is  remarkable  for  stirring  and  wild  adventures,  many  of  which  the  writer 
personally  passed   through  ;  and  running  through  the  whole  there   is   a  vein  of  quiet 
humor,  which  relieves  the  more  fearful  parts  of  the  narrative. 

THE   SCALP  HUNTERS; 

OR,  ADVENTURES  AMONG   THE  TRAPPERS. 

One  Volume,  I2mo.t  Eight  Beautiful  Illustrations^  cloth.    Price  $1  25. 
So  marked  was  the  success  of  the  "  Rifle  Rangers,"  both  in  fhis  country  and  in  Europe, 
that  the  author  was  induced  to  publish  at  an  early  day  the  above  named  book,  a  work  of 
more  thrilling  adventure,  bolder  incident,  and  glowing  description  than  had  ever  before 
appeared  in  the  same  field  of  literature. 

THE   HUNTERS'  FEAST  ; 

OR,  CONVERSATIONS  AROUND  THE  CAMP-FIRE. 

Beautifully  Illustrated  with  Eight  Engravings  by  N.  ORR.    Price  $1  25. 

In  all  our  experience  we  have  never  met  with  a  book  which  gives  such  vivid  and  soul- 

atirnng  pictures  of  the  wonderful  and  terrible  adventures  of  a  Western  Hunter's  and 

Trapper's  life,  as  are  presented  in  this  evidently  truthful  narrative. 

THE   WHITE  CHIEF; 

A    LEGEND    OP   NORTH    MEXICO. 

One  Volume,  12mo.,  Eight  Elegant  Illustrations,  cloth.     Price  $1  25. 
This  is  another  of  thos-e  popular  works  of  adventure  which  have  taken  such  a  hold  of 
the  American  public  —  adapted  as  they  are  to  rouse  all  that  feeling  of  enthusiasm  and 
thirst  for  bold  deeds  wliich  seems  to  be  inherent  in  the  breasts  of  our  people. 

THE   QUADROON; 

OR,  A  LOVER'S  ADVENTURES  IN  LOUISIANA. 
Illustrated  with  Eight  Elegant  Engravings.     Price  $1  25. 

Ancther  spirited  and  brilliant  romance,  quite  equal  in  stirring  interest,  graphic  descrip 
tions  of  natural  scenery,  and  truthful,  vivid  portraitures  of  character,  to  anything  th* 
Captain  has  yet  written,  and  little  more  need  be  said  in  its  favor. 

THE   WAR  TRAIL; 

OR,  THE  HUNT  OP  THE  WILD  HORSE. 

One  Volume,  \2rno.,  Eight  Beautiful  Illustrations,  cloth.    Price  $1  25. 
Capt.  Mayne  Reid  was  an  officer  in  our  army  during  the  late  war  with   Mexico,  and 
while  in  that  country  met  with  many  adventures,  which  form  the  groundwork  of  his  last 
4<ul  best  effort.     We  can  truthfully  say  it  is  the  most  interesting  book  of  the  day. 

OSCEOLA  THE   SEMINOLE  ; 

OR,  THE  RED  FAWN  OP  THE  FLOWER  LAND. 

Containing  nearly  500  pages,  handsomely  embellished  with  original  de*igit», 

engraved  in  the  highest  style  of  the  art  by  N.  OKR,  Esq.  Price  $1  25. 
The  brief  but  heroic  struggle  of  the  Chief,  OSCEOLA,  forms  the  groundwork  of  a  narra 
live  which  is  equal  to  any  of  Mr.  Reid's  former  productions;  and  while  the  reader'* 
patriotism  cannot  fail  to  be  gratified  at  the  result,  his  sympathy  is  awakened  for  the 
manly  struggles  and  untimely  fate  of  the  gallant  spirit,  who  fought  so  .lobly  for  th« 
freedom  of  his  red  brethren  and  the  preservation  of  their  cherished  hunting  grounds. 

Address  all  Orders  to 

ROBERT  M.  DE  WITT,  PUBLISHER, 

13    FRANKFORT    STREET. 

W.  H.  TW«OM,  Printer  »nd  St«reotyp«r,  rear  of  43  A  44  Centre  St.,  N.  Y. 


('»vlf*  niuilsd  Jo  any  rf/*/rt.'*r?,  free  ttf  ptt 


on  re  ~eipt  ofpriee. 


THE  LAST  GREAT  BOOK  OF  A  GREAT  SERIES! 


CAPTAIN  MAYNE  REID'S  LAST  WORK. 

OSCEOLA  THE   SEMINOLE; 

OR.  THE  BED  FAWN  OF  THE  FLOWER  LAND. 

BY  CAPTAIN    MAYNE  REID, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  THK  SCALF  HUNTERS,"  "  R1FLR    RANGERS,"  "  WHITK  CHIEF,"  "  HUNTER'S  FVAflV.1* 

"QUADROON,"  "  THE  WAR  TRAIL,"  etc.,  etc. 

Obtaining  nearly  500  pages,  hansomely  embellished  with  original  designs,  engraved  in 
the  highest  style  of  the  art,  by  N.  Orr,  Esq.    Price  $1  25. 

The  Historical  Novel  has  ever  maintained  a  high  rank — perhaps  the  highest — among 
works  of  fiction,  for  the  reason  that  while  it  enchants  the  senses,  it  improves  the  mind, 
conveying  under  a  most  pleasing  form  much  information  which,  perhaps,  the  reader 
would  never  have  sought  for  amid  the  dry  records  of  the  purely  historic  narrative. 

This  fact  being  conceded,  it  needs  but  little  argument  to  prove  that  those  works  are 
most  interesting  which  treat  of  the  facts  and  incidents  pertaining  to  our  own  history,  and 
of  a  date  which  is  yet  fresh  in  the  memory  of  the  reader. 

To  this  class  of  books  preeminently  belongs  the  volume  which  is  here  submitted  to  the 
American  reader,  from  the  pen  of  a  writer  who  has  proved  himself  unsurpassed  in  the  field 
which  he  has,  by  his  various  works,  made  peculiarly  his  own. 

The  brief  but  heroic  struggle  of  the  celebrated  Chief,  OSCEOLA,  forms  the  groundwork  of 
a  narrative  which  is  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  any  of  Mr.  Reid's  former  productions  ;  and 
while  the  reader's  patriotism  cannot  fail  to  be  gratified  at  the  result,  his  sympathy  is  at 
the  same  time,  awakened  for  the  manly  struggles  and  untimely  fate  of  the  gallant  spirit, 
who  fought  so  nobly  for  the  freedom  of  his  red  brethren  and  the  preservation  of  their 
cherished  hunting-grounds. 

CONTENTS. 


The  Flowery  Land. — The  Indigo  Plantation. 

The  Two  Jakes. — The  Hotnmock. 

Yellow  Jake.— The  Alligator. 

The  Turtle-Crawl.— The  King  Vultures. 

The  Bath.— The  "  Half-blood. 

The  Chase.— A  Severe  Sentence. 

The  Chase. — Ringgold's  Revenge. 

Maumee. — The  Island. 

West  Point.— The  Seminoles. 

An  Indian  Hero. 

Frontier  Justice. — Indian  Slaves. 

A  Circuitous  Transaction. 

Reflections  by  the  Way. 

A  Strange  Apparition. 

Who  Fired  the  Shot  ?— A  Frontier  Fort. 

The  Council. — The  Rising  Sun. 

The  Ultimatum  —Talk  over  the  Table. 

The  Traitor  Chiefs.— Shadows  in  the  Water. 

Haj-Ewa.— A  pretty  Plot. 

Light  and  Darkness. — In  Need  of  a  Friend. 

Ihe  Final  Assembly.— Cashiering  the  Chief.%. 

The  Signature  of  Osceola. 

Fighting  Qa/lagher. — Provoking  a  Duel. 

The  Challenge.— The  Assignation. 

An  Eclaircissement.— Two  Duels  in  One  Day. 

A  Silent  Declaration. 

The  Captive. — The  War-cry. 

War  to  the  Knife. 

Tracing  a  Strange  Horseman. 

Who  was  the  Rider.— Cold  Courtesy. 

Address  all  Orders  to 

ROBERT  M. 


My  Sister's  Spirit.— Asking  an  Explanation. 

The  Volunteers.— Mysterious  Changes. 

My  Informant.— Old  Hiukman. 

A  Hasty  Messenger. — A  Lover's  Gift. 

The  Route. — A  Knock  on  the  Head. 

An  Indian  Executioner^ 

A  Banquet  with  a  Bad  Ending. 

"Dade's  Massacre." — The  Battle-ground. 

The  Battle  of"  Ouithlacoochee." 

A  Victory  Ending  in  a  Retreat. 

Another  Swamp  Fight. — The  Talk. 

Mysterious  Disappearance  of  an  Army. 

The  Condition  of  Black  Jake. 

A  Sad  Spectacle.— To  the  Trail. 

The  Alarm. — A  False  Alarm. 

"  A  Split  Trail." — Crossing  the  Savanna. 

Groping  Among  the  Timber. 

Signal  Shots. — An  Empty  Camp. 

A  Dead  Forest.— A  Circular  Conflict. 

A  Dead  Shot  by  Jake. 

A  Meagre  Meal.— A  Bullet  from  Behind. 

A  Jury  Amid  the  Fire. 

Quick  Executioners. 

An  Enemy  Unlocked  For. 

A  Conflict  in  Darkness. 

The  Black  Plumes.— Buried  Alive. 

Devils  or  Angels. 

The  End  of  Arens  Ringgold. 

The  Death  Warning. 

Osceola's  Fate. — Con-elusion. 


DE  WITT,  PUBLISHER, 
13  FRANKFORT  STREET. 


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MAYNE  REID'S  MEXICAN   ADVENTURES. 


THE  WHITE  CHIEF. 

A      1    EQEND     OF     NORTH    MEXICU 

BY    CAPTAIN    MAYNE    REID. 

AUTHOR  or  "KIFLE  RANGERS,"  "SCALP  HUNTERS,"  "HUNTERS'  FEAST,"  ETC.,  BTO. 

One  Vo] ,  I2mo.     Beautifully  Illustrated,      Cloth,  Pric*.  $1  25. 

THIS  is  another  of  those  popular  works  of  adventure  which  have  taken  such  a  hold  of 
the  American  public— adapted  as  they  are  to  rouse  all  that  feeling  of  enthusiasm  ani 
thirst  for  bold  deeds  which  seems  to  be  inherent  in  the  breasts  of  our  people.  Few  writers 
have  risen  to  such  popularity  in  so  short  a  time.  The  "  Scalp  Hungers,"  "  Rifle  Rangers," 
"Hunter's  Feast,"  and  "White  Chief,"  form  a  library  in  themselves,  for  they  contain 
not  only  thrilling  narratives  of  Wild  Wood  Life,  but  are  full  of  information  as  to  the  habitt 
and  natural  history  of  the  denizens  of  the  woods  and  forests,  lakes  and  streams,  be  they 
four-legged  or  two-legged,  or  no  legs  at  all,  AVe  subjoin  a  brief  synopsi?  of  the 


CONTENTS. 


The  Valley  of  San  Ildefonso 

Religious  Festivals. 

"Tailing  the  Bull." 

Sports  Resumed. 

The  Taunt. 

Bitter  Hate. 

Fearful  Spectacle. 

Rosita  and  Don  Juan. 

Evening  on  a  Feast-Day. 

The  "Staked  Plain." 

Antonio,  the  Half-Blood. 

The  Buffalo  Hunt. 

Alarm  in  the  Coral. 

SaspToion  Aroused. 

New  Fears. 

The  Mystery. 

The  Signal. 

The  Scene  Changes. 

The  Tete-a-Tete. 

The  Lonely  House. 

Maternal  Solicitude. 

The  Cup  of  Water. 

The  Arrival. 

Vizcarra  Seeks  the  Wine  Cup. 

Force  Resolved  Upon. 

Trouble  Ahead. 

Return  of  Carlos. 

The  Brother  and  Lover. 

The  Wolf-Dog  Cibole 

Guilty  Conscience. 

The  Dream. 

The  Consultation. 

A  Wily  Counsellor. 

Suspense. 

The  Town  in  an  Uproar. 

Address  all  Orders  to 

ROBERT  M. 


Death  of  Garcia. 

Crafty  Plottings. 

Carlos  Escapes. 

Roblado's  Expedition. 

Morning  Prayers. 

Vizcarra  Plots  Vengeance. 

Don  Ambrosio  de  Cruces. 

Catalina. 

Midnight. 

The  Crouching  Serpent. 

The  Explanation. 

Carlos  in  Peril. 

Fresh  Rumors. 

The  Trap  Falls. 

Joaquin  the  Priest. 

The  Buffalo  Hunters. 

The  Man-Hunters  Start  for  their  Pref, 

The  Cave. 

Night. 

The  Suspicious  Trail. 

Carlos  Returns. 

The  Wour  led  Friend. 

The  Ambuscade. 

The  Cactus  Thicket. 

A  Mystery. 

Consternation  of  Pepe. 

The  Scene  Changes. 

The  Prisoner. 

The  Piazza. 

The  Resolve. 

The  Banquet. 

The  Guard  Relieved. 

Midnight  Carousings. 

Carlos'  Return. 


DEWITT,  PUBLISHER, 
13  FRANKFORT  STREET. 


W.  H.  TINSON,  Printer  and  Stereotyper,  Rear  of  43  4  46  Centre  St.,  N. 


Copt*9  mailed  to  any  distance^  free  oft... 


on  receipt  of  price* 


THE    QUADROON; 

OE,  A  LOVER'S  ADVENTTJEES  IN  LOUISIANA. 
BY    CAPTAIN    MAYNE    REID. 

AUTHOR  OF  "  RIFLB  RANQKRS,"  "  THE  WHITE  CHIEF,"   "  HUNTERS*  FEAST,"  ETC.,  B*a 

With    Beautiful    Original    Designs,    Handsomely    Bound    in    cloth, 
Price  $1  25. 

ANOTHER  spirited  and  brilliant  romance,  quite  equal  in  stirring  interest,  graphic  dei- 
*riptions  of  natural  scenery,  and  truthful,  vivid  portraitures  of  character,  to  anything 
ihe  Captain  has  yet  written,  and  little  more  need  be  said  iu  its  favor. 

There  is  a  charm  pervading  these  books  which  is  to  be  found  in  few  others — and  it  liea 
In  that  off-hand,  dashing  style  with  which  the  author  carries  his  reader  along  with  him, 
through  all  sorts  of  perils,  verging  on  the  very  brink  of  destruction,  but  invariably,  by 
gone  happy  chance,  landing  him  safe  on  terra  Jirma.  Of  course,  this  is  easily  effected  in 
a  novel,  and  is  wbat  every  writer  aims  at ;  but,  with  most  of  them,  the  reader  can  never 
lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  ha  is  reading,  while  in  Mayne  Reid's  books  the  narration  is  so 
blended  with  the  action  that  we  lose  our  identity,  as  it  were,  and  all  our  faculties  ara 
absorbed  by  the  scene  bofore  us,  until  we  feel  as  if  we  ourselves  were  the  participants  in 
the  fight  or  foray  he  is  describing.  We  subjoin  a  brief  synopsis  of  the 


CONTENTS. 


The  Father  of  Waters. 

Six  Months  in  the  Crescent  City. 

The  "  Belle  of  the  West." 

The  Rival  Beats. 

A  Desirable  Fellow  Passenger. 

Antoine,  the  Steward. 

The  Starting. 

The  "  Coast  "  of  the  Mississippi. 

Eug6nie  Besancon. 

A  New  Mode  of  Raising  the  Steam. 

A  Boat-Race  upon  the  Mississippi. 

The  Life-Preserver — Wounded. 

Where  am  I  ?— "  Ole  Zip." 

M.  Dominique  Gayarre. 

**  Aurore." 

The  Creole  and  Quadroon. 

A  Louisiana  Landscape. 

My  Journal. 

A  Change  of  Quarters. 

Aurore  Loves  Me. 

A  Surprise — A  Rival 

An  Hour  of  Bliss.      . 

The  "  Nigger  Quarter." 

The  Devil's  Douche. 

Gayarre  and  "  Bully  Bill." 

"She  Loves  Thee." 

Thoughts — Dreams. 

Stung  by  a  Snake. 

The  Runaway. 

Gabriel  the  Bambarra. 

The  Snake- Doctor. 

Charming  the  Rattlesnake. 

Killing  a  Trail.— The  Pirogue. 

The  Tree- Cavern. — Hotel  Gossip. 


The  Letter— The  Wharf-Boat. 

The  Norway  Rat— The  Huma. 

Jealousy. 

A  Scientific  Julep. 

A  Game  of  Whist. 

The  Game  interrupted. 

The  Sportsmen  of  the  Mississippi. 

The  City. 

Vente  Import-ante  De  Ncgres. 

Brown  and  Co. 

Eugene  d'Hauteville. 

Pity  for  Love. 

On  Games  and  Gambling. 

The  Faro  Bank. 

The  Watch  and  Ring. 

My  Forlorn  Hope. 

The  Rotundo. 

The  Slave  Mart. 

Bidding  for  my  Betrothed. 

The  Hackney-Carriaj^. 

To  Bringiers— Two  Villians. 

The  Pawpaw  Thicket. 

The  Elopement. 

The  Lost  Mustangs. 

A  Night  in  the  Woods. 

Love's  Vengeance. 

Hounds  on  out  Trail — The  Signal, 

The  Sleuth  Hounds. 

Th«  Man-Hunter—Shot  for  Shot. 

Love  in  the  Hour  of  Peril. 

A  Terrible  Fate. 

The  Sentence  of  Judge  Lynch. 

In  the  Hands  of  the  Sheriff. 

The  Crisis. 


Address  all  Orders  to 

ROBERT   M.   DEWITT,   PUBLISHER, 

13    FRANKFORT    STREET. 

W.  H.  TIN-SOW,  Printer  and  Stereotype,  Rear  of  43  *  45  Centre  St.,   PT.  Y. 


topie»    Mailed,  postag-e  paid,  on  receipt  of  price. 

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Being  a  full  and  accurate  account  of  his  most  astounding  successes  abroad,  defeating, 
in  almost  every  instance, 

THE    CHESS    CELEBRITIES   OF   EUROPE. 

Edited,  with  copious  and  valuable  Notes, 

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AUTHOR  OF  "THE  CHESS  PLATER'S  INSTRUCTOR." 

This  valuable  acquisition  to  Chess  Literature  contains  a  SPLENDID  PORTRAIT 
OF  PAUL  MORPHY,  the  Chess  Champion  of  the  World,  engraved  on  Steel,  in 
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fect  transfer  of  one  of  BRADY'S  most  successful  Photographs^  together  with  a  fac-simile 
of  MR.  MORPHY'S  AUTOGRAPH. 


ELEMENTS  OP   DRAUGHTS; 

Or,  BEGINNER'S  SURE  GUIDE : 

Containing  a  thorough  and  minute  exposition  of 

EVERY    PRINCIPLE,    SEPARATELY     EXPLAINED- 

TOGETHER  WITH   MODEL   GAMES   ILLUSTRATIVE   OF  ALL   THE   OPENINGS. 

Illustrated  with  Diagrams  exhibiting  critical  positions  to  \>e  won  or  drawn  by  scientific! 
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BY  I.  D.  J.  SWEET, 

PHAUGHT  EDITOR  OF  "  THE  NEW  YORK  CUPPER." 


CHESS-PLAYER'S   INSTRUCTOR; 

Or,   O-TJIDK  TO  BEGmsnsnmRS : 

CONTAINING  ALL  THB  INFORMATION  NECESSARY  TO 

ACQUIRE    A    KNOWLEDGE    OF    THE    GAME. 

With  Diagrams  Illustrative  of  the  Various  Movements  of  the  Pieces. 
BY    CHARLES    HENRY     STANLEY. 

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places  them  wUhin  the  reach  of  all. 

ROBERT   M.  DE  WITT,  PUBLISHER, 

FRANKFORT    STREET. 

W.  H.  TINSOM,  Printer  and  Stereotyper,  43  &  45  Centre  Street,  N.  Y. 


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